The Mask We Wear: Cracked
by Ashesofthefirststar
Summary: While on the run from Central, Byakuya and Ichigo are trying to adjust to life in a new country and as new dads. These adjustments are only made harder when Ichigo tries to hide his depression from his lover and him and Zangetsu start having vision like night terrors. Meanwhile, a war is in the works in the Seireitei and the risks are high. Will they be able to protect their world?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is the sequel to The Mask We Wear. If you haven't read the first that's okay because the two stories have very little to do with each other, but I highly suggest at least reading the last two chapters or you'll be confused. If you didn't read the story in the past because of grammatical errors, my beta has gone back and edited all of my old chapters.**

 **For those who read the first story, welcome back! The way this story will be set up is very 50/50. While half of this story will consist of Byakuya and Ichigo's life in hiding, the other half with consist of war preparations within the Soul Society. Other than this first chapter, each chapter will take turns consisting of ByaIci or the war, for instance, this chapters mostly about Byakuya and Ichigo, the next is all SS stuff, and the third will be all Byakuya and Ichigo again. This pattern continues until both story intertwine.**

 **Just a fair warning, Ichigo does deal with some depression and anxiety issues within this story. I know some people don't enjoy reading stories with that kind of subject matter.**

 **Good vibes!**

 **xXx**

" _All I need is somewhere to lay,_

 _somewhere to lay my hat up._

 _I need someone to love in the middle of the day._

 _I want someone to be, and someone to drive around town._

 _I need someone to love when the chips are down._

 _Love me when the chips are down" -The Kooks "Around Town"_

 **xXx**

 **Old Habits**

 _Two weeks after Byakuya and Ichigo defected, a meeting was held within the assemblage hall of the Elders' quarters. The group of men gathered to discuss the bedlam that has ensued since their escape and what strategic maneuvers should be taken in light of the situation._

 _A cloaked elder donned in rich maroons and clunky sterling silver jewels addressed the head elder with a stoic glare. "There's been no luck in the retrieval of the defectors. Last night, a soul reaper infiltrated the adoption center in hopes of finding some sort of address, but nothing was on record. They must have taken precautions, figuring something like this would occur. Central ordered the Captain-Commander to deploy a search team, and though he agreed, I could tell it was done begrudgingly. I have my concerns that neither he nor the soul reapers deployed are truly understanding the severity of the situation. Perhaps his alliance doesn't truly lie with us, and that could be detrimental."_

 _Yoshida tapped the monogamy table in contemplation before he habitually caressed his argon beard. "What the Captain-Commander believes is of little importance to me. What about the rest of the Gotei? Are they buying into the story?"_

 _This time a different elder spoke up, "We've been keeping our ear to the ground, and the general conscience is shock but not disbelief. That spirited speech you gave surely helped, since it's been centuries since a house elder has addressed the entirety of the Gotei Thirteen."_

 _Aktyama sat with his legs crossed and gave a patronizing clap of the hands. "Yes, that was some show, Yoshida-san."_

 _Sighing and giving a dismissive wave of his wrinkled hand, he concluded, "Well, it was the head of our household who defected with a wanted criminal. It only made sense for the elders to make some statement. I merely took the opportunity to rile up urgency and express how dire their retrieval is. Though many were shocked, most have no reason to doubt the allegations. In fact, their running only implicates them further."_

" _Yeah, that's all well and good, but without any actual proof, people will begin to have their doubts. An accusation of an attempted terrorist attack is not convincing enough," said another elder, giving Yoshida a dubious cock of the eye brow._

 _The head elder let a wolfish smile gape his wrinkled face before he gestured to the maroon-clad elder and replied, "Ah, that's why the news Fukui-san brought me yesterday was timely and possibly a solution to our concerns."_

 _Fukui elaborated, "As you know, we have eyes and ears everywhere. Within the district, there are rumors of a group of soul reapers acting as good Samaritans of sort. It's not clear what they're actually doing quite yet, though it seems to be some sort of reform group."_

" _I don't think I quite understand. How is this a good thing?" said an elder._

 _Shaking his head in subtle frustration, Yoshida replied, "Must I paint you a picture? Everything is about perspective. A reform group can easily be portrayed as a resistance, and since they're breaking our laws, it's not completely false. When we announce the new laws, we'll tell the people about the formation of this group. We'll explain that Kurosaki was possibly in cahoots with this resistance group and about their," with a voice of smug condescension, he went on, "deplorable agenda: They want to take the power out of the hands of Central and disperse it to the districts of the Rukongai, a plan to make the Seireitei no more by integrating soul reapers into the Rukongai. Though the ambitions of the resistance are good intentioned, by taking power away from Central, they're marking the protection of the Soul King as low priority and in turn, endangering the whole world. At least this is what we'll feed the Gotei, and why wouldn't they believe us? Central's whole existence is for the protection of the Soul King and the people of the Seireitei."_

 _He smirked and Aktyama rolled his eyes while biting back a scoff, thinking to himself what a load of bull that was, especially in this situation. "We surely won't be calling them reformers, no, we'll call them separatists, separatists who want to dismantle the foundation of the Gotei and distance themselves from the morals of our world. Such a prideful group of individuals are the Gotei, that the belief that this group wanted to break away and degrade the ties that hold the militia together would be abhorrent."_

 _Fukui held up an index finger and added, "The existence of a resistance will be a great addition to our reasoning for these new laws and enhance our probability of a favorable outcome."_

 _As Yoshida nodded amicably, Aktyama pinched the bridge of his nose and said exasperatedly, "Yoshida-san, your notion that the truth is malleable is only triumphed by your malleable morals."_

 _Throwing Aktyama a sharp sideways glance, Yoshida countered, "Feel as you like Aktyama, but you're sitting right here with us. You're just as much morally adaptable as I."_

 _Aktyama wanted to say something like, 'as if I have a choice,' but held his tongue._

 _Another elder, who had been somewhat nervously fiddling with his fingers, couldn't hold back the obvious any longer. "Why is it no one's talking about Kuchiki-san's disappearance?" At the odd looks he was thrown, he clarified more confidently. "What I'm saying is, this whole thing started because of that damn prophecy, right? Head Elder Yoshida was wrong: Kuchiki-san did leave." All the elders tightened their jaws slightly, gauging Yoshida's reaction towards the man's brave words of dissidence. "So that means the prophecy is wrong, correct?"_

 _A heavy scowl marred Yoshida's face as he clenched his body in anger, his supercilious nature getting the better of him._

 _Aktyama could practically see animated lines of heat spewing from his fellow elder. Knowing Yoshida hated being called out, he took the liberty of responding. "Not to point out the obvious, but this prophecy never actually mentioned Kuchiki-san by name. The answer could be as simple as he wasn't the head of the household that the oracle spoke of."_

 _Instead of pacifying the head elder, this was merely an impetus for the man's already bruised ego. "Nonsense," he spat while hitting the table. "I don't accept that, besides, if not him, then who else? I haven't given up hope that'll he'll come to his senses."_

 _Completely unfazed, Aktyama ran his hands through his black hair before gesturing with his hand. "Well, there is one other person with the pure Kuchiki bloodline. They could-"_

" _Oh, not her!" Yoshida groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. In a frustrated yet relatively calm voice he said, "If the idea wasn't so ludicrous I'd almost think you were joking."_

 _Rolling his eyes and plopping his hands back in his lap, he resigned, "She's extremely powerful in her own right, but if you're going to continue to be a stubborn old bat, fine."_

 _Yoshida huffed slightly and turned his attention back to the group, but was still addressing his right hand man. "Just give the situation more time." After a brief epoch , he continued, "Right now, our number one priority is finding those two. We must stay vigilant, for those two hold our power in their hands."_

 **xXx**

Opulent onyx hair hung over the edge of the couch as Byakuya leaned his head back, taking in the sensation of tingling sticky sweetness dripping down his naval and Ichigo's tepid tongue lapping up the desert. The mixture of frigid ice cream melting down to his pelvis and Ichigo's warming mouth licking all the right places caused Byakuya to squirm with sensual carnality.

Ichigo, straddling his husband, moved his mouth from Byakuya's effulgent stomach with a tongue full of ice cream, the heat from Byakuya's skin and his wet tongue melting the dessert, making some drip from his parted lips and down his chin.

Before he could meet his dulcet lips with Byakuya's, the man turned his face away and grimaced slightly, saying, "You know how I feel about sweets."

Ichigo rolled his eyes and talked, while trying not to move his tongue too much, causing him to sound like he had a mouth full of cotton, "But It's banana flavored, you like bananas." At Byakuya's continued scowl, he swallowed down the ice cream. While grabbing a full spoon from his bowl and sliding it down Byakuya's body once more, Ichigo noted, "Got it, strictly on your body, not _in_ your body."

For a brief moment, Byakuya's still face gave a look filled with avidity and his hands tightened around Ichigo's waist before he mocked, "You're such a child, the way you like to play with your food."

Once again lapping up the ice cream and swallowing it down, Ichigo smirked at Byakuya before quipping, "No, Milly is a child. I'm an adult. That's why I get to eat ice cream whenever the fuck I want."

Grabbing the nape of Ichigo's neck, Byakuya pulled the cold lips into his and gave a deep and slow kiss. Grasping Ichigo's chin to separate their lips, Byakuya cocked an eyebrow and said bluntly, "You know, if you continue to eat ice cream whenever you want, you'll get fat."

Yanking his chin away, Ichigo scowled at the comment before taking off his t-shirt and showing off his perfectly lean yet muscular torso. "I don't think that's going to be a problem." Pursing his lips slightly, he continued somewhat meekly, "With all this free time I have, all I do is exercise. Plus," he said with a shrug of the shoulders and a playful look in his eyes, "I have youth on my side." Leaning closer so his frigid breath could be felt on Byakuya's elegant neck, the lascivious Byakuya trembled as Ichigo whispered, "You should worry more about yourself, _old_ man."

At the feeling of Ichigo's boxer brief-clad erection twitching against his lap and the sight of his body arching slightly, looking absolutely adorable with the half smirk half scowl he donned, Byakuya ran his firm grip all over the tight body, pulling at the skin in all the right ways.

After a bite of the lip, he pulled Ichigo close and released his passionate cupidity into his mouth. Both of the prurient men frantically tugged at each other's bodies, running wanton hands through disheveled hair and panting through touches of the lips, all while Ichigo ground his hips in circular motions on his lover's lap, causing both their erections to ache at the contact. Through huffs and the intermingling of tingling tongues, Ichigo moaned, "You should come home for lunch more often."

This just elicited a deeper shiver within Byakuya's chest, exuberant with lust. He held Ichigo tighter, moving his hips concurrently with Ichigo's, causing fiercer contact. Using one hand to cup Ichigo's face firmly while the other pressed against the arc in his muscular back, Byakuya groaned, "Why must you do this to me? You know we have very little time. Do you enjoy torturing yourself?"

Still tugging and biting at Byakuya's lips, Ichigo rasped, "Maybe." He groaned, "Can't your students learn about the prevalence Henry Greene had on the twentieth century _tomorrow?_ They'll understand," before continuing with his bombardment of sensual kisses.

Chuckling slightly, Byakuya teased caustically, "I would, but I've become accustomed to luxuries like food and shelter, all which can't be without an income."

Twisting his face slightly, Ichigo agreed, "Yeah, food _is_ nice." Huffing slighting in realization, he jumped off Byakuya quickly. "Fine," he groaned before dropping his briefs and standing fully exposed in front of his lover. He got on his knees beside Byakuya and leaned his stomach against the back of the couch. At Byakuya's puzzled look, he scowled. "I'm not doing this for my fucking health, ya' know. Hurry up and come here."

Shaking his head slightly, Byakuya huffed, "You really don't listen, do you? Didn't we just agree that necessities come before sexual wants?" His yearning eyes glanced over Ichigo's opened body once before he said in a flat voice, "I just don't have the time to prepare you."

Turning crimson and scowling in embarrassment, Ichigo barked, "When you called to tell me you were coming home for lunch, I- well, I-" His scowl melted as he averted his eyes. "I already, you know-" Ichigo was the easily flustered and innocent type. Even with his husband, whom he was very comfortable around, he always felt embarrassed and reserved when it concerned his own desires. At Byakuya's knowing eyes and slight smirk, Ichigo cursed, "Damn-it, don't make me say it."

Giving an amused huff, Byakuya unbuttoned his trousers and dropped them to the ground before moving behind Ichigo, his chest and girth pressed against Ichigo's back as he taunted, "You must have really missed me."

"Yeah, and isn't that normal?" he sneered, arching his neck to allow Byakuya's lips to kiss freely up the length of his back. "You don't need to be all smug about it,"

"And you don't have to be bashful about it," he countered while pressing his hardness into Ichigo. He let out an involuntary moan at the tight muscles contracting around him, swallowing him up. Taking in the sight of Ichigo's entrance practically absorbing him, his body being much more earnest than his words, Byakuya felt heat froth from his chest and radiate through his extremities. "Oh my," he noted in his sultry tenor, "You're so open." He found this sensual part of Ichigo so captivating and somehow still so pure. Sex with Ichigo was the equivalent to having an existential break through each time(;) every thrust was accompanied by the sensation of being completely alive and self-aware that this man was the only one for him. His body and soul were utterly dismantled and rebuilt with the sensation. This must be what it felt like when it was right, being so in love and having that love reciprocated fully.

Scowling halfheartedly, Ichigo said, "Well you're fucking huge. Of course I made sure I was ready. Geez, do you have to narrate everyt- Naahuhhh!"

Ichigo cut off his own sentence as a moan was drawn from his parted lips by the rhythmic penetration of Byakuya's girth. "Or perhaps your body just wants me that badly," Byakuya growled as he deepened and quickened his stride.

Bearing against the back of the couch, Ichigo's hand was balled up slightly while he bit on his ring finger, so overwhelmed by the sensation of Byakuya squeezing down on his shoulder and hip, pulling him into the motions even deeper. At his lover's lewd comment, he half moaned half sneered, "Shut up already and just fuck me, damn-it."

Pulling Ichigo's face to the side slightly, before Byakuya sunk his lips into his, he remarked, "I'm happy to oblige."

Seven months. Seven months had passed since the couple had left behind their homes and lives to begin this opaque journey with Milly. Each day had been a new challenge and a new lesson, but each day Ichigo was also filled with the reassurance that every obstacle was worth it. Life with those two was worth every sacrifice. Sometimes when he woke up to the scent of cherry blossoms and the sound of childlike giggles, Ichigo thought he was dreaming. The reality of such peace had been bewildering to him, as if he could lose it at any moment. How did he get here? When did this become his life? Having his own family to protect, being so helplessly in love, could he really have this? The answers weren't always transparent, but despite that, Ichigo knew one thing: he'd protect this with every ounce of power he had.

At first, it took a while to get into the flow of things. As expected, trial and error were needed to figure out just who was good at what or who would play what roles. It took Byakuya ruining a couple of loads of laundry and Ichigo burning quite a few meals to get to where they were now, especially when they had to move around often within Japan, trying to keep out of the clutches of Central. However, after they had settled down on the other side of the earth and gave it time, things started to flow as naturally as the changing tides. The two of them worked liked a well-oiled machine, two complete individuals coming together to make a spectacular team, both giving and taking, putting in their all.

After five months of inconsistency, the trio settled down in a nice apartment in Portland, Oregon. Byakuya took a job as a Literature professor at Reed College as a result of his fraudulent résumé and Identity. Luckily enough, Byakuya was a connoisseur of all things literature, and not only found the job within his skill set, but fulfilling and rather enjoyable. He indulged in the simplicities of this life, being able to hold the gift of learning in his hands and share that, help expand the worlds and minds of those thirsting for education. This helped him truly not just understood why he wanted the reform movement but for the first time, see the repercussions of such in action. In fact, despite the importance of the work he was doing here, this was an impetus for his want to get back to the Soul Society and implicate the things he had learned in his new human life.

Despite Milly being in remission, because of her condition, she needed more attention than most children. That's why Ichigo decided to work from home as a freelance architect. Though he only had about a quarter of the work he'd had at his old job and made about half as much, it was plenty to pay for Milly's schooling and pay off all of the utilities. Byakuya and Ichigo made enough to be comfortable but nowhere near enough to live the lavish life that Byakuya had once had. In fact, Byakuya had to work as a substitute at an inner city high school that had more students than books as a means to an end, although, this didn't bother him, since material items meant nothing when compared to the safety of his family.

Every hurdle and challenge came paired with laughs and new experiences. For the first time in his life, Ichigo had opened up to another person in complete earnest and Byakuya had done the same. Sometimes he almost felt too open; it was like his skin was itching from this newly formed attachment, his vulnerability aching the invisible scars that marred him. The eccentricities of his torn psyche were bubbling above the surface. These parts of him were as imbedded within him as his DNA; good, bad, or ugly, it was truly unavoidable. Ever since the passing of his mother, he'd walked a solitary path, always surrounded by others but somehow feeling alone. This was a result of the enormous weight he carried on his shoulders, unintentionally pushing others away in the name of protection while also fearing the abysmal darkness he felt at losing his most important person.

Even now, sometimes it seemed all but a matter of time, as if the person he was and the duties he had made him undeserving of this in some way, almost like such a simple happiness was beyond the realm of reality, as if he'd wake up at any moment alone in his loft and memories of this deep attachment would be as far-off as a dream.

Yet he understood that he and Byakuya were very similar in this way. Throughout these months together, Ichigo had grown to know so much more about his lover. Hisana had just been his breaking point; Byakuya was all too familiar with the looming cloud of death at a young age, first with his mother and then his father next, both individuals who were paramount in Byakuya's identity. After Hisana, it had almost felt as if he was alone on a mound of corpuses. He'd buried himself in solitude out of fear of feeling such extreme lose again, but more so, out of a want to protect people from the shadows. As a result, he'd become resolute in building his power to its absolute, focusing only on his duties and protection without the infliction of attachment. He'd protected Rukia without ever showing her even the slightest inkling of affection for the longest time; he'd done this of all the people within his life. Those burdens had become a mountain that Ichigo and Byakuya had to surpass, both valiantly trying to work through their baggage, if only for each other.

Both had to fight the urge to push the other away out of fear and a need to protect. How easy it was to fall back into these old mechanisms, but when the situation arose, they reminded each other that they were no longer carrying these burdens alone. Together they could conquer, and by relying on one another, they could protect their new found life dexterously.

Though you know what they say: old habits die hard. An inner turmoil had been brewing within Ichigo that he couldn't quite explain. Lately he'd felt a daunting sadness that loomed over him. It wasn't because of Byakuya or Milly; on the contrary, spending time with them seemed to be his only salvation from this sensation. It had started after Byakuya had picked up a second job and Ichigo had found himself without the company of his best friend and lover more so than not. Because he worked from home and he wasn't allowed contact with his friends or family, Ichigo thirsted for companionship in a way he never really had before. He had no friends in this new town and found himself alone with thoughts that seemed to grow more worrisome by the day. Despite knowing this is where he wanted to be, he found himself submerged in daily anxiety about the safety of his friends and family, frightened that something could happen in his absence, and more frightened that there would be nothing he could do about it.

Along with that, he found himself worried that he'd make some huge mistake, and somehow undermine his proficiency as a parent and husband. This was all new to him, and the fear of losing it or somehow not being able to shield his family from Central became a habitual concern of his. Adding to his loneliness, his work seemed to sever his sense of purpose; no longer was he using his architecture to help people but instead did simple jobs that gave little creative or personal fulfillment. Most if not all of his fulfillment came from being a father and husband. To make matters direr, this feeling seemed to being seeping into other aspects of his life, making him unmotivated to work on his own art work anymore, or hitting him in the stomach in the midst of a happy moment shared with his family. It addled him; usually he was so strong and positive. When had this ambiguous sadness filled him and how did he get rid of it? He hated feeling weak, and that's just how he felt when this feeling would come about: unexplainably fragile.

That's why he kept it from Byakuya, because he felt so unjust in these feelings. Byakuya was the one who was on Central's kill list, and he'd had to leave his family and life also. There was no way this adjustment could be some simple matter, yet the older man handled it gracefully. Because of this, Ichigo didn't want to burden him with what he thought were trifling issues. Byakuya had his own sadness and anxiety to bare in this situation and Ichigo didn't want to be another worry on that list. He wanted to be as strong as his lover, and he especially didn't want Byakuya thinking these new feelings were somehow because he wasn't happy with him or that he couldn't handle this. Nothing could be further from the truth. If he would ever allow his zanpakutou spirit to enter his thoughts freely, he'd get on him to talk to Byakuya and say it would make him feel a lot better, telling Ichigo he was being the same stubborn punk he always had. Still Ichigo didn't listen; he was determined to protect his family in his own way and stomp out these insistent negative feelings.

After Ichigo and Byakuya's quick tryst ended and Byakuya departed, Ichigo worked a bit on some blueprints before he had to pick Milly up from school. As per usual, when his thoughts were bombarded by a dreary cloud of melancholy, memories of his family broke through like rays of sun fighting against the darkness.

 **xXx**

 _In the parking lot of some abandoned store, Ichigo's head went flying forward, only to be saved from the mercy of the dashboard by his seat belt. Looking over to his frustrated lover, he put on a smirk and mocked, "Out of all the things you've sucked at since we left home, this tops the list."_

 _The raven-haired man had a ferociously tight grip on the steering wheel and donned a look of agitation. With a set jaw and slight roll of the eyes, Byakuya countered, "Well perhaps if I wasn't driving this-this-_ tank _of yours, I wouldn't have such difficultly."_

 _Turning to the back seat to make sure Milly hadn't flown forward from Byakuya's lead foot, Ichigo sneered, "Don't blame my girl for your crappy driving!" before giving a breathy chuckle._

 _Scoffing slightly, Byakuya muttered rather indifferently, "I'm merely trying to go back and forth to work, not infiltrate enemy combatants. This thing is quite too much for me to handle." After a transitory moment of glancing thoughtfully out the window, Byakuya suggested, "Perhaps I'll just take a bus."_

 _After a burst of mocking laughter, Ichigo teased, "You? On public transportation? I give you ten minutes before I get a call from the police saying you assaulted a man."_

" _Let's be fair," Milly interrupted, "Dad could probably last fifteen minutes."_

" _I'm glad to see you both have such faith in me," Byakuya noted caustically._

 _Both Milly and Ichigo shared a snicker before Ichigo added, "You know you have a thing with germs, not to mention all those people. I know you don't have a lot of patience for obnoxious people."_

 _Not missing a beat, Byakuya quipped dryly, "We'll I do spend my time with you, do I not?"_

 _Ichigo gave a theatrically fake laugh_ , _"Ha-Ha, very funny," before he turned more to his side to look at the man directly while playing with a strand of loose raven hair painting his face._

 _He sighed heavy before concluding, "I suppose it is rather pedestrian."_

" _And you work clear on the other side of town. Transportation isn't as reliable here."_

 _Nodding his head and narrowing his eyes resolutely, the professor declared, "Right, I won't be beaten by a machine."_

" _Dad?" Milly chirped, "Could I learn to drive?"_

 _Turning his head to give a disapproving glare, Byakuya replied, "Absolutely not, you can't even reach the pedals."_

 _Jumping in her seat slightly, Milly countered wryly, "Yeah, but I could still probably drive better than you," to which Ichigo gave her a furtive high five, not trying to hide his bouts of laughter._

" _Don't get smart with me," Byakuya reprimanded halfheartedly._

 _Putting a hand up to her mouth as she giggled, "So, are you saying you don't want me to be smart?"_

 _Ichigo only laughed harder at his husband's slight scowl turning into a sigh of defeat. "I'm losing an argument to an eleven year old. How did this happen?"_

 _Leaning in with a giant smirk, Ichigo pulled the man closer and kissed him briefly before saying, "Because she's just like me, that's why."_

 _Byakuya chuckled before saying, "Dear Soul King, help me." He turned the ignition and looked into Ichigo's sweet eyes. "One more time, alright?"_

 _Smiling supportively, Ichigo cajoled, "As many times as you need."_

 _The supercilious man cocked his eyebrow and countered arrogantly, "This will only take one more time."_

 **xXx**

When it was time for Milly to get out of school, Ichigo made his way over to Catlin Gable private school, one of the many compromises Byakuya and Ichigo made concerning Milly. Ichigo didn't want to put too much pressure on her and thought that kids who go to public schools are not only opened to more 'real life' scenarios, but are able to more freely choose what they want without the pressure. Of course, Byakuya was concerned about Milly getting the best education and thought that could best be obtained through a strict setting. After mulling through a dozen or so private school pamphlets and visiting even more, they both compromised on this school. Another part of the compromise was that they wouldn't push Milly into a copious amount of extracurricular activities, but let her decide. Byakuya had been exposed to a vast amount of languages and instruments, along with archery and fencingat a very young age, but Ichigo thought Milly should be left the her own devices when it came to making such decisions. Though Byakuya didn't agree at first, as he often did, he conceded after some convincing and some seductive kissing from his lover.

Milly chose to play soccer, and because of her condition, Byakuya was not pleased, but after a lecture on how Milly deserved to live her life to the fullest and not be filled with regrets, he once again compromised. To be honest, Byakuya was over the moon to have Ichigo around to make these dictions. He was always able to help him realize when he was being too strict, just as he was able to help Ichigo realize when he was being too hands off. As new parents went, they were both pretty great. They stumbled through at times, but always with the other right there to lean on.

Of course, Milly took English classes, but that was only to help her adapt to living in a new country and help her make friends easier. If only she could pick up friends as easily as she was picking up English. Still, she seemed genuinely happy, and Ichigo had always known her to be a more demure girl anyway. She had always been a little different, even living in her home country, between her condition and her affinity for reading, the snot nose brats of the world just didn't understand her. Still, both Ichigo and Byakuya were sure that with time she would make friends and adjust to this new life.

Standing in front of the sumptuous school, his hands casually slung in his pockets, Ichigo couldn't get pass the notion he had forgotten something. He'd felt it all day, and it was now becoming a thought that was causing unsolicited anxiety. It felt like something rather important, but he just couldn't place it. Interrupting his plight was a halcyon Milly, her head full of tiny ringlet curls jolting in his direction. The jaunty girl bounced back and forth on her heels in front of him with a bright smile. "Hey Dad."

Ichigo's insouciance melted into a half smile at the title. "Hey Kid," he greeted, ruffling her curls. "You ready?"

"Actually," she chirped, grabbing his wrist, "My teacher would like to speak to you. I told her one of my dads was picking me up today, and ya' know, no time like the present."

Narrowing his eyes at the girl, he asked, "What did you do? You didn't try to release your class lizard back into the wild again, did you?" He cringed, " Look, I get it, but yo-"

"No, no, I'm not allowed alone with Big Red anymore." She hung her head slightly. "I'm not sure what she wants, she didn't tell me, but I swear I didn't do anything!" she pleaded.

Smiling at the girl and slinging an arm around her shoulder, he said, "Alright, alright, I believe ya', lead the way." As they walked, he noticed other parents giving him snide looks, addled by confusion at his age. They must have heard Milly call him her dad, and since Ichigo looked much more like her brother than her guardian, they were throwing judgmental eyes his way. He just scowled and kept a tight arm snug around his daughter all the way to her class room.

The pair walked into the classroom, catching the attention of the middle-aged teacher eyeing her computer at the front of the class. Looking over her dark-rimmed glasses, she gave the pair a surprised glare as she stood from her desk to greet them. Her wasp-esque hair style practically bounced as she sauntered over to the two with her glossed lips morphed into a theatrically big smile.

Placing out a hand for the man, she greeted, "Hello, I'm Milly's science teacher, Ms. Patterson, and who might you be?"

Ichigo accepted the hand, giving it a lackluster shake while trying to muster up a genuine smile. "I'm Milly's father, Ichigo Tanako."

Giving him a dubious glare while giggling slightly, she patronized, "You mean you're her brother, of course?"

Ichigo tightened his jaw and gave an inward sigh. He had no patience for people's assumptions today. That was another symptom of this affliction: he felt like a moody teenager, sad, unmotivated, and ill tempered. However, he reminded himself that he was standing here in a teacher's classroom about to have a talk about his daughter- he was definitely an adult, and being an adult meant putting your own shit aside and taking someone else's.

With a fraudulent smile and a contained irritation, Ichigo corrected, "No, I'm her father. Well, technically I'm married to her adopted father, Byakuya Tanako. We raise her together."

Raising her perfectly penciled eyebrows in surprise, her eyes gaped as she gave an evocative look. "Ah, I see." Gesturing a hand to the seats in front of her desk, she said, "Please, have a seat."

Ichigo didn't like the patronizing tone of her voice nor the judgment in her eyes, but still he bit back his comments while taking a seat.

Intertwining her fingers in front of her, she looked at Milly and suggested, "Why don't you go wait in the student lounging area while me and your dad talk."

Holding up a dismissive hand, not holding back his indignant glare, he responded, "No, Milly will stay. Anything you have to say about her can be said in front of her."

At the challenging glare of honey orbs, she gave a relinquished sigh as she widened her grin. "Well alright. Mr. Tanako, I'm sure you're aware that there is a parent-teacher conference tomorrow." She gave Ichigo a brief moment to nod before continuing, "We're recommending that certain parents sit down with a counselor at the conference, and after discussion with Milly's other teachers, we've decided that such a meeting would be beneficial for her continued future at Catlin Gable."

His confused eyes vacillated between his daughter and Ms. Paterson a couple of times before he pondered, "Okay, but why exactly?"

The only thing more preppy than her argyle sweater was her voice of condescension as she responded, "You see, Milly's been exhibiting…" She paused just slightly, "What's the right word, odd behavior? And we've been concerned about her. She seems to be having a difficult time adapting to her peers. Her trying to release our class pet aside, she chooses to not interact with other students, to work alone on projects, and often rather read than socialize with anyone. We understand Milly's gifted, but she uses that as a reason to ostracize herself and, as I see it, look down on her classmates."

"But Ms. Paterson," Milly's urgent voice rang as her slumped temperament became alert. "I don't work with the other kids because they think I'm weird and don't want to talk to me! They even make fun of me," she pleaded, crossing her tiny arms in frustration. "Of course I act like I'm better than them, because I am! Anyone who makes fun of anyone is scum."

Ms. Paterson gave a disparaging glare as she sighed, "Now Milly, the students are just new to you. If you only _tried_ to relate to them, then-"

Scoffing slightly, Ichigo interrupted her concerns with a disapproving shake of the head. "Let me get this straight? You're telling me that these kids make fun of Milly, and that somehow she's to blame? She's done everything possible to adjust to these customs, yet she's the one who needs to try to relate? How exactly is that fair?" he bit back a harsher tone at the woman's criticism. "She's left her home country, learned a new language, and not to mention, she's in remission! Of course she's having trouble adjusting if she's not being welcomed by her peers."

"Mr. Tanako," She gave a placating smile, "Most students at least care to try to fit in with their peers. Your daughter actively avoids her peers and exhibits odd antisocial behavior. We're merely concerned about her-"

"Antisocial behavior?" he barked indigently, now donning a full on scowl. "You talk about her like being shy and liking books is some kind of disease," he scoffed before continuing, "And you know what? What's so wrong with that? You shouldn't be teaching kids they need to change themselves to make friends." He glanced over at his daughter's crestfallen face and gave her an encouraging smile. "There will be plenty of people who will see Milly for the awesome person she is, just the way she is. Milly's nice to everyone. If those kids turned her away that's not her fault," he concluded with a huff, his fervent voice losing some of its heat.

Pursing her lips, the teacher nodded her head slightly, signifying she understood. "Well, either way, we would like her father to come in and talk to the councilor."

Ichigo's irate eyes gaped and his fist clenched before he snapped rather rudely, "Hey, lady, are you deaf? This is the third time I've told you, I'm her father."

Smirking at the man and batting her fake lashes, she didn't even try to hide her mocking tone, "Still, a lot of students like Milly are experiencing some issues at home. We'd like to speak to Byakuya, just to cover our bases."

Sneering at the women, he got to his feet swiftly and turned to Milly, "Come on, Milly, let's get out of here. I've heard enough of this."

The little girl stuck her tongue out at her teacher who retuned the gesture with a scowl. Turning up her nose, she jumped out the chair and followed behind her steamed guardian who was now bulldozing out of the room indignantly.

His murmurs of frustration could be heard as he grabbed her frail hand and walked her down the stairs and across the street. "You don't listen to them, Milly, they're just dumb."

"I know that, Dad. I have made a friend. He's on the soccer team," Milly muttered out, being dragged hastily across a parking lot.

Ichigo smiled in approval as he opened the car door, veiling his frantic frustration. Though he drove in silence, he felt that new and unsolicited anxiety fill him once more. It irked him because even though he knew that teacher was full of shit, it still somehow got under his skin. Had there been problems at home? Was he just not seeing it? And why wasn't Milly telling him about her difficulty with making friends? Because he understood the tribulations of being a new parent and fully grasped he wouldn't be perfect, this only riddled his mind with his own shortcomings, filling him with doubts of his abilities.

It wasn't unusual for the reaper to become irate and indignant, especially when he was passionate about something, but these feelings of deep seeded anxiety were all too new and unfamiliar, all accumulating into a weight bearing down on his chest, constraining his breaths. What was happening to him, what was this feeling of dread that seemed only stimulated by his frantic sharp breaths? Ichigo tried to focus all of his attention on driving while he ignored his heart beating out of its cavity and his proverbial train of thought derailing. Somehow, thoughts of frustration had turned into fears that he wasn't doing his one job correctly: protecting his daughter. Despite comprehending that these thoughts were irrational and fear based, they were as uncontrollable as his steadily rising heartbeat. All he could manage was to not completely lose his dignity and composure in front of Milly as he pulled into the driveway of their home, avoiding her concerned looks.

Then it hit him, the important thing that had slipped his mind. Today was his sister's birthday. Though the thought granted him an ephemeral moment of relief, it just as suddenly stabbed him with the sharp realization that this was the first year since their births that he hadn't been there for this. After all those years spent of being an absentee brother, there physically, but always mentally somewhere else, Ichigo had finally rekindled and repaired that relationship. Under the influence of his already pounding heart rate, this only added to the flood of panic stricken thoughts flying around Ichigo's brain. As if the realization of just how much he missed his family, how much it terrified him not being there to protect them, and how doubtful he was in his ability to keep Byakuya and Milly safe and happy, hit him, and all of the composure and fortitude he built up seemed to come crumbling down. These illusions, like shadow puppets on a wall, dissipated in the darkness. He couldn't deny that he was losing his grip, feeling completely solitary and weakened in the light of his fragility. It was as if his body was having a psychosomatic reaction to these panicked thoughts, and this in and of itself was what pushed him over the edge. This feeling was completely out of his hands; it was _his_ heart that booming uncontrollably, it was _his_ hands that were aquiver, and it was _he_ who was unable to keep it together for his family. Try as he might, his body just wasn't letting him forget this.

Milly kept giving him concerned glances as Ichigo jumped out of the car and took frenzied strides towards the door. When she voiced her worry, Ichigo stated through sharp huffs, "I'm fine, just not feeling good. Please, go to your room for a while," he urged, keeping his tear-filled eyes averted as he now started gasping slightly for breath. He didn't want Milly to see him in this way. After a few more worried glares, she simply did as he said and resigned to her room.

With this, Ichigo barged into the bathroom, his body finally feeling the alertness to its fullest, forbearing all reservations. He slid down against the door, begging his soul for an answer to the questions that addled him. Why was this happening? He loved Byakuya and Milly, he was happy with them, he knew that to be a fact. More so, he knew that the two were doing their best as parents and that his friends and family were all probably okay, safe without him. So why, even with this self-awareness, was he having such an involuntary reaction? Here he was, gasping on the floor, feeling about two stifled breaths away from a heart attack, with silent tepid tears trailing down his trembling features. More horrifying, he had almost subjected Milly to such a scene. Ichigo didn't want either Byakuya or Milly to see him this way. It was his greatest wish to protect them, and for them to see him in such a miserable state - the last bit of his sanity dangling on a gossamer string - it would just break him. Because it wasn't them. It wasn't anything, and yet at the same time, it was everything. Ichigo didn't know why he felt such an abject sadness, all he knew was that he wanted it to end, and he wanted it to end now.

' _Is this what they call a panic attack?'_ he cringed inwardly, his hand clutched to his chest as he lowered his head in-between his bent knees. "Shit… shit… shit," he cursed, trying to somehow focus on anything but his frantic breath, for trying to steady his breathing only seemed to amplify the stress.

Giving a somewhat devious chuckle, the sprit invaded Ichigo's mind,' _It's called depression and anxiety, you moron. I'm a zanpakutou spirit and I can even figure out that much.'_

Groaning between huffs, Ichigo managed to push out, "Not now, Zangetsu."

Ichigo had long ago taken to calling both of his spirits Zangetsu. It only seemed right since, in a way, they both were. Somehow they could always differentiate which one he was speaking of. Perhaps it was the tonality of his voice when he spoke to them. Either way, Ichigo rarely let his zanpakutou so freely into his own thoughts, not since he'd learned how to control such a thing. Yet, in his dolor, his guard was down and it was inevitable. Ever since the two Zangestu had merged, the Soul Reaper Zangetsu had grown slightly more docile, now instead of representing Ichigo's dark side, he carried a loyalty to his master and became a much truer representation of Ichigo's soul. Though Soul Reaper Zangetsu was an overly energetic, arrogant, loud mouth, wild child, more than anyone, he chided Ichigo for not being open with his own feelings. He reprimanded him for not talking to Byakuya. It was odd really, for his zanpakutou spirit seemed just as enamored by Byakuya as he was, and it was quite the oddity for the vivacious being to be subdued by anyone's presence. Yet, because he was born of Ichigo's soul, and he felt an ineffable connection to Byakuya, it wasn't _that_ odd that Zangetsu felt that same connection to his crux.

More so, from previous experience, both Soul Reaper Zangetsu and Quincy Zangetsu understood how easily turmoil could degrade his inner world, causing the wind of doubt to brew a storm of impervious rain. With doubt and self-neglect causing an unbalance in his world, everything around him was effected. So when Zangetsu scolded his behavior, he would tell him it was his inability to speak up that made him weak, not these unexplainable feelings. That ignoring them and letting them fester would only cause damage.

" _If you feel weak, it's your own fault! I tooold you to talk about this_ ; _he's your fucking life partner, ain't he?_ 'The spirit continued to ramble as he usually would, ' _Yeah, just keep ignoring it_ , _big guy. You look so tough down there on the floor_. _'_ Giving something in between his habitual maniacal laugh and a groan, he concluded, ' _Do I need to bring the Quincy-fuck out here?'_

Ichigo continued to ignore the headache inducing tangent of his zanpakutou, only continuing to heave harder as his breath continued to increase.

Zangetsu could feel Ichigo's body trembling and losing control. At the sight, he did the only thing he could think of. He did the only thing that he knew could truly calm Ichigo down.

Somehow, in the pandemonium that was his mind, maneuvering past a dozen intermingled thoughts of panic and a copious amount of emotion, was a singular memory. The world around him seemed to turn off, as now thoughts of his family became the cynosure of his mind.

 **xXx**

 _A lethargic and disheveled Ichigo rolled out of bed and went to the kitchen in search of coffee. There he found Byakuya standing rather begrudgingly in front of something that looked like a pile of defeated gift wrap. When he threw a dubious glare between his husband and the papier-mâché calamity, Byakuya said rather indifferently, "Well, how is it?"_

 _His eye gaped slightly as he pondered a repose. "Uhhh-" He cocked an eyebrow at Byakuya_. _"What is it, exactly?"_

 _Byakuya huffed and turned up his nose_. _Putting on airs, he said, "It's one of Milly's birthday gifts, of course. I wrapped it."_

 _Before taking a sip of his coffee, Ichigo chuckled slightly and quipped, "It looks more like you attacked it with wrapping paper."_

 _Narrowing his eyes at Ichigo, he replied caustically, "Excuse me if my skills do not exceed your standards, Mr. Artist."_

 _Ichigo snorted slightly, thinking Byakuya's defensive and prideful nature was utterly endearing. It just showed Ichigo how important it was to the man. Kissing his lover's cheek briefly, Ichigo put a sympathetic hand in the dip of his back. "You don't need an art degree to wrap a present, just someone to show you how to do it."_

 _The onyx-haired man put on an earnest yet soft smile, and his eyes gleamed in a way that they only did for Ichigo. "Please, I need your expertise."_

 _Returning the smile, Ichigo moved to the poorly wrapped gift and discarded the unsalvageable paper with a smirk. "That's done for," he remarked, now grabbing some scissors and fresh paper. Looking over his shoulder, he declared, "Watch how I do it, so you can do the next one."_

 _With that, Byakuya moved rather close to Ichigo, watching over his shoulder while letting his tepid breath tickle the back of the reaper's neck. Watching as Ichigo dexterously wrapped the present, explaining each step to him, he complimented, "You're rather good at this. You humans have such an odd array of skills."_

 _Ichigo smirked inwardly. He sometimes forgot how unaccustomed Byakuya was to worldly traditions, but the adorable part was just how much he wanted to learn them, if only to be a better father and husband._

 _Casually shrugging his shoulders, Ichigo said, "It's something I've done since I was a kid_. _" A smile could be heard in his voice as he continued to work on the present_. _"My mom and I use to wrap my sisters presents for them. It was like a tradition, something we'd do with just the two of us." Placing the last piece of tape on the present, he continued, "After she passed, my dad tried to keep it going for a long time. Still, it wasn't quite the same."_

 _Ichigo turned to meet Byakuya's cool pools of gray as he leaned against the counter, picking up the cup of coffee he had set down. With a halfhearted smile, Byakuya replied, "That sounds like a lovely tradition. In our house hold, all presents were wrapped by servants, so I've never experienced such a thing- hence my lackluster gift wrapping skills."_

 _Sitting down his cup of coffee, Ichigo ran his hand down Byakuya's arm until he got to his hand, entwining their lithe fingers. "Well now it's our tradition," he spoke warmly, pulling the man a little closer._

 _Feeling exuberant with warmness at such a simple notion, Byakuya said with a smirk, "I suppose it is," before he brushed Ichigo's lips with his own._

 _Through warm deep intermingling tongues, Ichigo muttered, "You ready to try and wrap one yourself, or what?"_

 _Lifting the younger man onto the counter and forcing Ichigo's legs around his waist, he growled, "Or what."_

 **xXx**

When Ichigo opened his eyes, the air had lost its chaotic energy. No longer were there loud pants of panic, but the soft thumping of his calmed heart. The memory has brought about a calming effect, giving equilibrium to his frenzied mind.

After a brief moment of enjoying the silence, Ichigo asked out loud, "Did you bring about that memory?"

" _OF COURSE!"_ Zangetsu bellowed, " _It's the only thing that I know will calm you, so you're welcome, dumbass.'_

Though he wanted to be offended, Ichigo just didn't have it in him. If anything, he was grateful. "Thank you," he murmured.

" _You can thank me by talking to Byakuya. It was like a fucking tsunami in your inner world_. _I don't want to deal with that again.'_

Rolling his eye and setting his jaw, Ichigo leaned his head back against the bathroom door in frustration. "How many times do I have to tell you, Zangetsu, leave it," he grunted out, his voice dangerously close to snapping.

' _Not happening, tough guy. Always going on and on, protect this, protect that. You ain't protecting shit crying on the bathroom floor, which is what's going to keep happening if you don't say something about-"_

"Say _what?!"_ Ichigo snapped, "Tell Byakuya that I'm lonely with him gone all the time, like he isn't doing this for Milly and me, like this is something he _wants?_ Should I tell him that I miss my friends and family, that I miss not even being able to talk to them? Like he doesn't know or doesn't miss them too? No, he's given up his title, his duties, and his family, just like me. I'm here to help protect them, not burden them. How can I expect him to understand something that I don't even comprehend?" He cringed slightly, "I won't let them think that I don't want to be here or that I can't deal with this. I won't put that additional weight on Byakuya's shoulders."

" _Fool,"_ Zangetsu chided. His usually wicked temperament was oddly somber. _"When will you learn that trying to protect things by yourself only makes you weaker? Did you ever stop to think that holding such a burden alone is only making your turmoil worse? Talking about it is the cure. All of this can go away real easily if you'd just put aside your dumb pride and admit ya' need help."_

Shaking his head in dismissal while standing up from the floor, Ichigo said, "Just shut it, I got things I have to do."

 **xXx**

Worried about her dad, Milly cracked open her door and tip toed to the bathroom. When she put her ear up to the door, all she heard was the nonsensical sound of muffled pants and tears. The sound made her creep back from the door slowly and put on a giant frown before she returned to her room.

Being as young as she was, she didn't completely comprehend what was going on with her dad, though she _did_ comprehend that this seemed to be a result of what happened at her school. She tried not to think about it often, but she knew Ichigo well before he'd become her adopted father. She knew how young he was and more so, she knew that this had never been his plan. It didn't escape her that he probably wasn't used to this whole dad thing, but she had always thought that this was exactly where Ichigo wanted to be, despite the challenges it brought.

Though when she heard his attack though the bathroom door, she couldn't help but wonder if she had been wrong. She had made Ichigo feel this way; the overwhelming stress had suddenly hit him and he'd realized that this wasn't something he wanted, at least that's what Milly took it as.

At the revelation, Milly sulked in her room, now filled with a mixture of fear and sadness.

She thought to herself, ' _Ichi isn't happy, he doesn't want to be with me anymore.'_


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Not much to say about this chapter other than it's all SS related, the next chapter will go back to Byaichi. I'll be responding to reviews at the end of the chapter. Please review and follow!**

 **xXx**

 _Paranoia is in bloom,_

 _The PR transmissions will resume_

 _They'll try to push drugs that keep us all dumbed down_

 _And hope that we will never see the truth around- Muse "Uprising."_

 **xXx**

 **Uprising**

In the courtyard separating the eleventh and twelfth division, there were looming trees surrounded by an array of obelisk. Ikkaku sat idly against the stone edifice while running his fingers through his companion's amethyst coiffure.

Laying on the blades of grass, his head propped up on his lover's lap, Yumichika used a pair of chopsticks to pick up the last piece of sushi, but before he could move the sustenance to his mouth, a fierce grip found his lithe wrist. As he looked up to his companion's severe orbs with a dubious glare, Ikkaku challenged, "I'll fight you for it."

Yumichika's eyes almost rolled out of his head as he jabbed the sushi-wielding chop sticks towards Ikkaku's mouth. With an air of condescension, he griped, "I swear, you're such a brute. Only you would want to fight over a piece of raw fish." Lifting up his head, he took a seated position beside Ikkaku while letting out a sigh of contentment.

Chomping his canines down, he spat through bites of food, "I always want to fight," before moving his still full mouth to steal a kiss from Yumi.

The beauty's face twisted with revulsion at the gesture, and he swatted Ikkaku's graceless face elsewhere. "This is how you repay me for making you lunch," he complained halfheartedly, "by trying to beat me up and then attacking me with morsels of spit-covered sushi?"

Swallowing the lump down his throat, Ikkaku threw an arm around Yumichika's shoulder and smirked. "Yeah, pretty much."

He just gave an amused huff before resting his head on the man's shoulder. He replied, "I suppose I wouldn't want you any other way."

Throwing his lover a sharp sideways glance, Ikkaku grunted, "You've never had a problem with my spit before." Tilting his head slightly, he brought his lips to Yumichika's compliant ones before he beleaguered him with kisses.

Biting his lip slightly, forgoing his lustful cupidity, Yumichika countered, "If you keep this up, someone will catch us."

Growling slightly, his eyes filled with eagerness, Ikkaku cursed, "How many times do I have to say it? Fuck em'."

With a knowing smirk, Yumichika admitted, "I just don't want them giving you a difficult time. Now that everyone knows about my Shikai, I'm certain my popularity has degraded in the eyes of the squad."

Ikkaku gave an indignant grunt while affectionately rubbing the feather-festooned face. "Yeah well, if it has, they've all got enough brains to keep their mouths shut about it."

With a smile, Yumichika quipped, "I'm glad to know they don't all have a death wish." Ikkaku was by far the strongest in the squad, only seconded to the captain, so Yumi knew that if the sword-happy man caught wind of someone soiling his name, there would be blood, lots and lots of blood. "I'm sure they all have their opinions though," he added.

"Tch-" spat Ikkaku, "I don't think you're as hated as you think. You know Captain, he doesn't bite his tongue for no one, yet he hasn't said one word, good or bad, about you." Stretching out his arms, he supported his head with his interlocked hands. "I think he keeps his mouth shut out of respect."

Rising a doubtful eyebrow, Yumichika speculated, "For you, perhaps."

Pursing his lips and with a dissented shake of the head, he disagreed, "Nah. If he had something to say, he'd say it. Especially because he knows he's the only member of the squad I _wouldn't_ step to. Maybe he doesn't like your powers, but after all that time, he can't help but respect you."

For a short moment of silence, Yumichika laid his head back in contemplation before his train of thought brought his eyes to the clock tower situated in the middle of the courtyard. "Oh rats," he said with a yawn, "It's almost time for round up." He rolled his eyes. "And I was so enjoying my day off."

Smacking his gums indignantly, Ikkaku replied tempestuously, "Fuck those guys, man. Treating us like little kids, evading our privacy, it's enough to m-"

Jolting slightly, Yumichika narrowed his brow and put a finger over Ikkaku's lips. "Shh," he whispered, quickly looking over his shoulder. "Saying stuff like that is a good enough reason for them to arrest you- You know they don't need a lot."

The irascible man let out a susurrus of nonsensical grouses, his eye brow twitching in frustration. "Let em'," he muttered. "These new rules are fucking ridiculous."

Putting a comforting hand over his lover's hand, Yumichika moved close to his ear and pleaded in a whispered, "We just have to be patient. You being dragged off by the Retrieval Squad won't help anything." Putting on a more placating look, Yumichika bit his lip slightly and said, "It would only succeed in making me dreadfully worried."

Pursing his lips, Ikkaku's face seemed to vacillate between pissed and defeated. Finally, with a scowl and in a contained voice, he asserted, "Yeah, well it's not that easy when you gotta' watch them take your squad members away for no damn reason. They took Ito-san yesterday all because one of those," his voice patronized as he said, " _retrievers_ overheard him making some dumb joke about Central. And you know the guys in our squad, so he put up a huge struggle and got the shit beat out of him. Tch-" He sneered. "How fucking humiliating."

With slightly gaped eyes, Yumichika added, "And by members of other squads, no less."

"You're telling m-" Ikkaku's statement was cut off by the clamor of an alarm sounding throughout the Seireitei. It was time.

Looking over to his lover with a cocked eyebrow, Yumi asked, "So I'll see you tonight?" When Ikkaku nodded his head, both stood up and flash-stepped to their prospective divisions.

A few weeks after the defection of Byakuya and Ichigo, along with news about a nefarious group of separatists, Central had released new laws under the guise of uncovering and retrieving these treacherous Soul Reapers. They'd told the assemblage that this was a matter of upmost importance and that the existence of these traitors was a threat on everything the Gotei was. Because of this, harsh laws were put in place. The most imposing and hard to swallow one was what they called round up. Basically, every member of the Gotei who was within the Seireitei at the time was accounted for and had their rooms ransacked by a special team of handpicked elite Soul Reapers. These reapers continued their normal work but also worked to police the denizen of the Seireitei. The laws of going and coming from the human world had become much stricter also. In fact, unless a reaper was on a mission, they were prohibited to leave the Seireitei at all. Along with a set curfew, Central was acting like preposterously paranoid parents who watched one too many sixty minute specials, searching for a cache of illicit items that never existed.

Not only were these laws humiliating and seemingly unscrupulous, it also left most of the Gotei feeling quite divided. A general suspicion filled the air with tension and gave way to doubt. Of course, Central scapegoated the defectors and separatists, wiping their hands of all blame. Overall, the entirety of the Gotei seemed split on the matter; half were filled with chagrin and determination, ready to catch these so called traitors and skin them for causing such an eruption in their lives. The other half took issue with Central's way of dealing with the situation, feeling as if they were degrading the integrity and pride of the Gotei, which led to murmurs and rumors of veiled intentions. Yes, tumult had taken over the members of the Gotei and there wasn't a single person who wasn't effected.

Though, for some members of the Gotei, this had only solidified how few rights they had, just a myriad of cogs in a machine, all working for the agenda of Central. Before, because of their hands-off approach to dealing with the Seireitei, it had seemed almost unnoticeable. Never had they intervened in the lives of Soul Reapers unless someone had broken one of the rules, which wasn't all too often. Now law abiding, dedicated, vigilant Soul Reapers were being treated as if they were criminals with no precedent, getting their rooms searched like they were children. As people started to become suspects for even vocalizing a negative opinion and their world melted into this George Orwell-esque dystopia, it was becoming all too obvious that they were at the mercy of the only law, the only opinion, that matter or counted, and inevitably, had little to no control over what happened in their lives.

Though Central had hoped this would deter any further opposition to their power, for some, it was like oxygen to a flame.

 **xXx**

Juushiro stood looking over Shunsui's shoulders, letting his cheeks brush against the frayed strands of chestnut ponytail. "What's that?" he inquired, noting the papers in the Commander's hand and the disparaging look on his usually intoxicated and jaunty face.

Turning his face slightly, his blood-warm breath adding crimson to the crystal-toned skin, Shunsui put on a feeble half smile. "Orders from Central. They want me to send another platoon to search for Kuchiki-san and Ichigo-san."

His face waffled from troubled to placating as Juushiro reiterated, "Ah, another one."

With his sake-jaundiced lips millimeters from his lifelong companion, he gave Juushiro an affection pat of the hair while donning his normal buoyant grin. "Don't worry so much," he comforted, "I have a feeling they're not going to have too much luck."

This earned a knowing smile from the crescent-haired Soul Reaper. He returned the affectionate gesture by cupping the scruffy face and mouthing a barely audible 'thank you'. Taking advantage of the amorous moment, the two shared an epoch of earnest gazing, only to be interrupted by the bellowing siren that signified their thrice daily puerile ritual.

Letting out a deep sight, Shunsui sighed and stood, roving around his desk with a lackluster saunter. "Let's get this done with," he proclaimed as the two of them walked towards the door.

"Yes, let's," Juushiro concurred.

No sooner did they walk outside and to the first division barracks did an abrupt vociferation molest their ears. The commander's face twitched at the sight of one of his platoon members getting hoisted up by the pits by two of the Special Forces Soul Reapers who each donned a badge to boast their false sense of authority. "Move it, you pestilent pig," bellowed one of the Soul Reapers.

At the sight of the woman's face gaping with abject terror, about to act as target practiced for the man's fist, the Commander swiftly flash-stepped to intervene, grasping the overcompensating fist with a rather gentle grip and a jaunty smile.

As the indignant eyes went to meet his own, the Commander noted, "Now, you really shouldn't hit a lady."

Puffing his chest out in a grandiose display caused by a nimiety of pride, the retriever shook off the grip. Gritting his teeth, he warned, "Don't think I can't take you in just because you're the Commander." Pausing, he gave a wolfish smile that lit up his twisted face, "In fact, I was given orders to take meticulous care of searching your living quarters."

With a somewhat mocking grin, the Commander gave a masculine giggle. He reassured, "I have nothing to hide. All that you'll find is affirmation that I truly am a drunk." Juushiro, who had been standing by with a troubled expression actually gave a lighthearted smile at the Captain's buoyant yet intimidating demeanor. "You may want to be more careful with your cheeky threats." He cocked an eyebrow at the man. "It's more your style to take on people who are weaker than you. So primitive, dont'cha think?"

The man's grunts and supercilious response was cut off by the woman supplicating for forgiveness. "I'm so sorry, Commander, I swear, I didn't do any-"

Her pleads for atonement were cuff off by his smile, met simultaneously by the sensation of the two retrievers hardening their grips as they began pulling her forward. Before he stepped aside to let them pass, he assured the girl, "Don't worry, I'll have you back here in no time."

With that, he let the two pass with the woman. As they left, his smile melted into a frustrated scowl. Juushiro stepped beside his companion and chided softly, "Shunsui, please be careful to not be too vocal about your distaste. I find this just as abhorrent, but if we're too outspoken, it could ruin our progre-"

He was cut off by the dismissive wave of the commander. "You should be going back to your division to make sure they're all okay. Besides, we shouldn't be speaking of this out in the open like this." He paused and gave his friend a tentative look of affection, "Please, be careful tonight."

With a resolute smile, Juushiro nodded and flashed away.

 **xXx**

A cloak-clad figure crept through the still crepuscule. The double-dealing black cloak bordered by royal purple stripes swayed against the darkness, able to cause its wearer, and the cloak itself, to be completely invisibile as soon as the cloth hit the skin. Surely a marvel and exemplification of the Shihoin Clan's treasured tools. As irony would have it, a piece of equipment created by one of the Four Great Clan's had become a corner stone in the fight against the clan elders that constructed Central.

As the imperceptible man walked with haste, finding himself now in the underground tunnels of the Soul Society, he reached into his cloak and from it he pulled out a branchlet burgeoned with two withered sakura blooms. On the miniature branch was a sliver of coiled white paper, that when uncoiled, read simply: meet tonight.

Sighing in resolution, the hooded man quickened his steps as he moved towards his destination.

In the beginning, there truly was no resistance group, only the reform movement that titled themselves 'The looming hand of the sakura,' paying homage to the ideals of Byakuya, which had began this reform. It was made up of humble soul reapers only trying to better the fetid existence of the denizens of the Rukongai by helping them become _self-_ sufficient; it was never in their goals to endanger the world by taking attention away from Soul King or their duties, but to provide enough resources, guidance, and education to help the district develop a structured government that could depend on itself. It wasn't until Central had flexed their authority and made false accusations of a resistance that one actually began to form. It was not the fraudulent group of separatists that Central had dreamt up, if only as a scapegoat for their actions, but a group of soul reapers who truly saw the nefarious motives of the group. It wasn't in their interest to dismantle the Gotei nor the Seireitei in the slightest, no, their only true goal was to illuminate Central's wickedness and overturn it, replacing the jaundiced government with a government that acted out of the interest of the Gotei.

When word started to spread of the separatists and the new decrees started effecting everyone's lives, people were equally addled and embittered. There was a myriad of harassment, arrests, and even executions, leading to increased agitation and the transformation of the reform group. Although, to be honest, Urahara had expected this, if not almost hoped for it, for without this development, there would be no way to shine the light on Centrals wrongdoing and bring back Byakuya and Ichigo. Yet, they still had to combat the distortion of their mission by the hands of Central. Juushiro, Urahara, and the other array of trusted Soul Reapers who'd amalgamated themselves with the cause, tentatively, yet furtively started to spread rumors of the real reform/resistance in the form of hearsay. 'Did you hear's?' filled the milieu of the Seireitei, dropping little bits of the truth behind the reform movement, now turned resistance, here and there. Of course, most people dismissed the rumors at first, but over the last seven months, and as the tenacity and desperation behind Central's actions had increased, the seeds of doubt started to sprout. The members of the Gotei were all relatively intelligent, especially officer-level members, so with all these pieces that just didn't seem to come together, skepticism was alive and well.

Members were told to keep their ears open, listening to anyone who seemed to have an unalloyed contempt or a zealous doubtfulness for the actions of Central. These people would receive the tiniest of sakura branches adorned with a message. These messages would always read something rather vague or cryptic, for instance, "remember who your real allies are," or "don't trust 46," or, "believe the rumors." This would, or course, pique the interest of the reader, who would be watched over the next couple of days, securing they made no moves to inform Central of the message. Then, the messages would become increasingly less vague, the next would usually read, 'If you're willing to protect the integrity of the Gotei, leave the branchlet here.' Though some were thrown off by the ambiguity of the message, most were shrewd enough to concern that, if such a resistance existed, they could not so freely show their faces. No, only extremely trusted confidences were allowed into the delphic and much rumored inner circle of the veil society. Discretion was why they imbued this form of contact, and such contact was how they counted their followers, people who would stand with them when the time came. To show their continued devotion to the cause, the receivers would obtain messages instructing them to help with the cause in various ways. Nothing too perilous, yet actions that became a cornerstone in the resistance. Because of this, they not only gained more support, but they gained eyes and ears everywhere, not to mention hands. They had connections within the jails, the kido corps, the council headquarters, the guards to the gates, the tamers of the hell butterflies, wherever, however, the resistance, much like Central, were pulling strings. This pivotal network of vigilant Soul Reapers webbed together the foundation of the resistance, becoming the soundless battle cry of these defiers, making the resistance grow daily. More so, it was making it seem like they just might win.

The veiled figure's footsteps came to an abrupt stop under the illumination of a singular lightpost. Quickly, the figure entered into the shadow casted against the edifice. One benefit was reaped from the Quincy war: the exploration and implications of the shadow dominion. For years now, Soul Reapers, like Urahara, had been diving into the cache of potentiality that access to such a world meant. After figuring a way to not only enter, but manipulate such power, it became another big player in the resistance. One could navigate through the shadow world, dexterously moving from place to place completely unperceived. However, merely entering into a shadow would lead into what appeared to be a pocket universe that expanded into blinding whitness. The alabaster vastness was stretched tightly over foreseeable miles, only ending as one's line of vision did.

A heliotrope hued ripple jaundiced the unwavering whiteness as a figure stepped through, only to take in the already de-hooded figures of their comrades standing against the incessant background.

The murmurs of about forty plus people talking amongst themselves could be heard, none really taking too much notice to the new arrival.

"Yumichika-san," Juushiro greeted him with a warm smile as the lithe man uncloaked himself, allowing his long violaceous braid to sweep across his shoulder.

"Captain," he exclaimed to his new superior, greeting him with an equally warm gesture. Ever since Yumichika had switched squads and found himself the third seat of the thirteenth division, Juushiro took meticulous care in being a mentor towards the younger man. How his teaching style differed vastly from Zaraki's. Juushiro was a pertinacious and demonstrative teacher, so mesmerized by the pure staunchness of Yumichika's vines that he made it his mission to aid in the nourishment of this power. The younger Soul Reaper was as retentive as a sponge to the gentle yet judicious and resolute teachings of his captain. His powers were now thriving, flourishing even. It was such a thing he had never experienced in his days of being the fifth seat of the eleventh division, though he'd never regret those days and looked upon them with fondness, now he could see his life no other way, for being in the eleventh division was like a rose bush trying to bloom in the desert, futilely withering away without the proper nourishment. But like a tender and loving horticulturist, Ikkaku had uprooted the beauty and replanted it where it could thrive, stretch, breath, and just exist. Through the aid of his new captain, as if he was the water and sun to his dormant powers, Yumichika had grown to new heights. This was his rewritten curriculum vitae, and he was infinitely grateful to his lover and new captain.

He remembered the moment he'd showed his new captain his powers, which was also the day he'd become involved in this movement.

 **xXx**

 _Lithe vines swept across the blazing sky with agility, the iridescent shimmer cascading across the flat dirt-covered terrain of the thirteenth division training ground. The desolate ground lit up like jewels gleaming with a deep scintillation as Yumichika aimed his beautiful scythe towards a tree, absorbing the reishi of the timber. When the flowers began to bud and then burgeon, the wielder felt the tickle of a smile pull at his crevices. This was the first time he had used his power without any reservations or paranoia: it truly felt like the real first time he'd used his power, and it was ineffably freeing and beautiful._

 _His eyes went from the blossoms and back onto his seasoned mentor, only to notice his gaze fixated on the spectacle and his verdigris eyes opaqued with the shimmer of wetness. Like a translucent gemstone, a single tear glided down his pearly cheek._

" _Captain?" Yumichika called, his face twisting slightly in confusion at the unexpected reaction._

 _Juushiro merely wiped the tear from his opalescent features and allowed a tender and tranquil smile to illuminate his emerald orbs. "Ah yes_ , _Yumichika-san, please don't take offense in my reaction_. _" Taking one last look at the recoiling vines, he asserted, "It's just, I believe that's the most beautiful shikai I've ever had the honor of seeing."_

 _Yumichika actually blushed from the recognition, especially from such an esteemed reaper as Juushiro. For a moment, he tried thinking about what Zaraki would have said if he'd ever seen his true shikai, only to push the masochistic thought out of his head. He understood and accepted that he'd never be appreciated like that by his old captain, but refused to let his own worth be defined by such. "Thank you," he replied_. _"That means more than you know."_

 _Standing beside his new student, Juushiro expressed, "It's hard to believe you kept something so all-encompassing held within for so long."_

 _Despite there being no malice or judgment in the captain's words, a shard of shame stabbed at Yumichika. Basking in his true crux, it baffled him how he he'd been able to suffocate such a thing for so long. How he wished he had of been honest with Ikkaku sooner. Hanging his head slightly, he went to speak, but as if his captain had been reading his mind, he interrupted him._

" _Don't feel as if I'm chastising you, Yumichika-san. If anything, I'm praising you," the always astute Captain clarified_. _"Your ability for self-sacrifice is one of the facets that makes you you, that grants your soul with such a staunch and pure power. It's both a flaw and an attribute, your best and worst part, if you will, but nonetheless, a part of you. Being able to contain a power of this level with such grace and patience is truly a testament to the vigor of your soul."_

 _Heat was exuding from Yumichika's chest at the carefully cultivated wisdom from his mentor. Feeling more jaunty, he teased, "Well, it certainly takes a man with a high level of patience and decorum to deal with the ruffians of Squad Eleven."_

" _You excel in both," the captain agreed with a soft smile. "Which is why your powers will be so essential to deal with the tumult within the Soul Society as of now."_

 _With a slight look of confusion, Yumichika asked, "What do you mean exactly?"_

 _A dolor seriousness marred Juushiro as he explained_ , _"Well, with all the clamor going on about these separatists and the defectors, we're going to need strong Soul Reapers to fight for the integrity of the Gotei."_

 _With a placating tone, his wisteria eyes gaped slightly. "Captain, you don't truly believe what is being said about Kuchiki-san and Ichigo-san, right?"_

 _Cocking an eyebrow at the younger man, Juushiro inquired, "You don't?"_

 _Without hesitation, Yumichika replied resolutely_ , _"Not for a moment."_

 _With an amicable smile, the Captain said, "It is truly hard to believe, but despite how displeasing it is to go after two people I hold so closely to my heart, as representatives of the Seireitei, we mustn't overlook it."_

 _Yumichika had always been the shrewdest of all his comrades within the Eleventh Division, and it didn't take him very long to discern that something was awry. The claims had been baseless at least, not to mention the odd rumors flying around, but more so, despite not knowing the two on an intimate level, he knew his comrades well enough to know when someone was trying to soil their good names. Yumichika was truly a respectful individual, especially to those who he considered his superiors, however, his astonishment at his captain's declaration stopped him from biting his tongue._

" _You can't truly believe that, Captain. With all due respect, just because Central declares something to be the truth doesn't make it so. Without out a shadow of a doubt, I believe in their innocence, and I'm honestly surprised that you don't, knowing them as well as you do. Along with these rumors about a reform group and these feeble accusations that have been thrown around, it seems the only ones with something to hide is Central."_

 _At how earnestly and tempestuously Yumichika expressed his concerns, the captain's eyes gaped as he smiled inwardly. "You believe the rumors about this reform group?" he questioned._

 _Pursing his lips in contemplation, Yumichika poised, "I'm too skeptical to believe hearsay, but the rumors are stating that this reform group had been merely trying to help the district become self-sufficient_ _and only turned into a resistance because Central has been attacking innocent Gotei members for unknown reasons and their own self-preservation, and somehow Kuchiki-san and Ichigo were caught in the middle. Central has made a lot of accusations and stated that they're only trying to protect us, but the only ones I see hurting us are them." He took a sharp sigh before concluding, "All I'm saying is, as I can't just believe in the reform movement without proof, I can't believe Central without proof, and honestly, the rumors about the real resistance and why those two defected seems much more likely, from what I know about the situation."_

 _Somewhat cryptically, the captain smiled and noted, "That is another great virtue to have, the ability to think for oneself and not blindly follow_. _" Turning on his heels, he started to walk away as he said, "Come, let's head back to the division."_

 _That night, Yumichika received a sakura branchlet along with a cloak sitting in his room. Unlike most, he has been propositioned to be within the inner circle of the reform movement, a circle that was only forty strong. Some reapers, after continued illustration to their allegiance with the society, would be allowed to enter into the circle, though this was a rarity. Perhaps it was because Yumichika had already worked closely with Urahara and Juushiro on a myriad of occasions and they already could attest to his character_ _that he wasn't made to jump through these same hoops._

 _He took no time in informing Ikkaku, for he always knew Ikkaku's only true alliance lay with his comrades and his Captain. In fact, if Zaraki had propositioned the whole squad to leave the Seireitei, Yumichika was sure he'd follow. Though, it wasn't until recently that Ikkaku had been granted within the inner circle of this elusive group, or that he'd even had a desire to be, but as the decrees and dictation melted their world into a tyrannical wasteland, Ikkaku too wanted to be involved in the eradication of such villains._

 _ **xXx**_

With a lowered brow, Juushiro asked, "Is Madarame-san not with you?"

Giving a slightly troubled glare, Yumichika replied, "He's supposed to meet me here, I'm not su-" The reaper was cut off by the same clamorous ripple opening behind him, "Speak of the devil," he noted as Ikkaku disrobed his cloak.

Crossing his bulky arms across his strapping chest, he narrowed his severe orbs in scrutiny as he glanced over the void and stood next to his lover.

"Ah- It's nice for you to join us, Madarame-san," Juushiro auspiciously greeted, looking so humbled without his captain's haori and his tied up hair.

Once again looking over the trifling attendance, Ikkaku gave a captious glare before leaning in slightly closer to Yumichika to denounce rather rudely, "Some resistance."

Yumichika took no time in lambasting the man with an elbow to the side, earning a deep scowl.

A regal man who looked close in age to Byakuya with azure-hued hair and the most piercing golden orbs Ikkaku had ever seen stood quietly beside the frost-haired captain. He was the only unrecognizable person in the room, but his looks gave the impression that he was from a well-to-do family. Those xanthous orbs that were burnished by a scintilla of emerald specks were enough to demand attention. The debonair man spoke up, "Don't let our size fool you, we have hundreds of followers. We're just rather selective over who we allow within out direct circle." An impish grin gaped his opalescent skin before he continued, "We find discretion to be more imperative than popularity. So you're rather lucky to find yourself among us."

The oddly attractive stranger placed out a hand for the brusque man, to which Ikkaku glared at rather dubiously before returning the gesture begrudgingly. He thought about ignoring it all together, but would rather not received another death glare from his partner. "I'd say you guys are the lucky ones." He quickly shook the hand before asking, "Who are you? I've never seen you around?"

In a placating tone, Juushiro interjected, "Where are my manners? Madarame-san, this is one of my most trusted and long known colleagues, and one of the biggest movers and shakers in the reform and resistance movement, Konoe Ryunosuke."

Ikkaku's glare went from choleric to stupefied in an instant as he asked, "Woe, wait, you mean like _the_ Konoes, as in one of the four noble households Konoe Clan?"

With a somewhat devil-may-care tousle of purple-blue shoulder length hair, he confirmed, "The one and only. I'm a clan elder."

This only educed a more rattled look from Ikkaku. He took no time in bombarding the man with questions. "Wait? I thought clan elders made up Central? Yumichika told me you have no clue why Central's acting this way, but you've got an inside guy? That doesn't make sense."

Giving a somewhat wolfish laugh, he turned to his seasoned comrade and noted, "How precarious and ardent these youth are these days."

Juushiro gave a concurring chortle. "Perhaps, but we need a zealot like Ikkaku-san. He's the type that, once he believes in something, is quite tenacious."

Ikkaku wasn't particularly fond of two men he barely knew making any types of assumptions about him, though it wasn't as if Juushiro was wrong. He had always been loyal above anything, and after months of his comrades being arrested and prosecuted without just cause, a man of his pride couldn't sit back and do nothing, especially when his own lover was fighting against the malfeasance.

"Madarame-san," the elder explained, "things are not that simple. True, Central is made up of house elders, and in a perfect world those seats would be divided evenly. Although, the Kuchiki clan has held the majority of its seats since the creation of the Seireitei, seeing as the Kuchiki clan and their soldiers was the true founders of the Seireitei. They've always held the most power. They hold twenty six seats in all, using their elders and members of their sub family. Whatever they want to happen, happens without opposition. In fact, the rest of the clan elders have no idea what the Kuchiki Clan's true motives are. We're just as in the dark as the rest of the Gotei."

Konoe put on a placating smile as Ikkaku became seemingly less addled and speculated, "So it's not really Central we're after, but the Kuchiki clan?"

Giving an introspective side glare, the elder clarified, "It's still more complex than that. The rest of the elders have sat around complacently. It's much like the saying 'If you're not with us, you're against us.' Though they may not be directly involved in the Kuchiki's furtive strategies, they would rather tumultuously follow the Kuchiki's rule than risk their comfy positions. It's neglect at the highest degree."

Brazen and fight ready, Ikkaku nodded to signified his understanding, and declared, "Right, so when does the action start?"

A playful grin pulled at the elder, who stood jauntily in his royal blue kimono bedizened with golden leaves. Before he could respond, a serious and berating voice chimed in.

"That _would_ be the first thing on your mind, you oaf," Toshiro affronted as he walked up with Shuuhei and Shinji at his side. "This is a resistance of patience, not brute force." For the first time, Ikkaku truly took in the face of the attendees. All were high ranking Soul Reapers. All the Vizard, along with a multitude of officers, even the brainiacs of Aiko's team who all wielded bankai, were apart of the assemblage.

Continuing on his diatribe, Toshiro added, "You help by keeping an ear to the ground, by discreetly gathering intel of the enemies and enlisting others to the cause."

Juushiro merely nodded in agreement as Ikkaku scoffed, "I didn't get involved to wait around. I'm just not the type to do nothing."

This earned a chortle from Shinji. "Yo, Ikkaku-san is right, he's not exactly the shrouded in darkness type, more the jump into action type."

"That will be equally needed, all in good time," Juushiro reminded with a somewhat wary glare.

"Well," the devil-may-care elder poised, "We have been wanting more information on Kuchiki Naomi. Perhaps he'd be of some use with that."

Juushiro gave the elder a look of apprehensiveness and said, "Now Ryunosuke-san-."

With a flippant shrug of the shoulders, he interrupted, "What? The boy doesn't want to merely sit idly on his hands." With a cocked eye brow, he practically hissed, "Let's give him a challenge, shall we?"

Ikkaku had to wonder how a man like Konoe had become so deeply involved in this movement or how he'd become friends with Juushiro. On the surface, he seemed rather indifferent, overtly playful, and aloof. Though the same could be said about the Captain-Commander. Perhaps Juushiro has a type.

Yumichika's narrowed his eyes at the group, addled by the suggestion. "Kuchiki Naomi? the new Sixth Division Captain? But why?"

Pursing his lips to veil a smirk, Konoe rolled back and forth on his heels like an eager child while nodding his head. "And the head of the Kuchiki household. I think our audacious Madarame-san would be the most likely to win over the Kuchiki's trust."

With an almost amused cock of the eyebrow, Yumichika asked, "Isn't that a lot like asking a coal miner to set a flower arrangement?"

"Hey!" Ikkaku bellowed as Yumichika interlaced his lissome fingers with Ikkaku's leathery ones.

"I'm merely assessing your attributes. Kuchiki's are known for refinement and coldness. You're much too…" He searched for the right word, " _spirited_ to gain the trust of their clan leader."

Snarling, Ikkaku muttered, "Sounds like your nice way of calling me a brute."

Squeezing the hand affectionately, with a smirk, Yumichika asserted, "Don't be silly, if I wanted to call you a brute, I just would."

"The Kuchiki name may be synonymous with refinement, but Naomi is the black sheep of the family, you could say, or more correctly, another piece in the collection of Kuchiki secrets, probably the most valuable piece." With a wiggle of the eyebrows, his smile could be seen in his vivid animated orbs. "There is very little couth to that woman. Though she appears stoic and with a somber disposition, she's rather bloodthirsty, almost maniacally so. More so, she's known for being quite the troublemaker, never to back down and completely rash, not to mention she has a few screws lose up there." He pointed towards his noggin as his eyes gaped, as if to say 'yikes.'

"A few?" Juushiro questioned, his voice filled with the hum of amusement, "That woman is deranged at best."

"Ah yes, you could say Naomi's savoir-faire is somewhat putty. Though, she's known for her immense amount of spiritual pressure and intelligence, fierce and completely mad," he shook his head at the chilling thought, "a frightening tonic. In fact, it's said that her true power is bounds above Byakuya-san."

"I find that hard to believe," Ikkaku spat flatly. "If she's so strong, why haven't I heard about her before she came out as the new captain of the sixth?"

"Did you not here me say she was their most valuable secret?" He yawned slightly, his demeanor tittering on the edge of indifferent, which threw Ikkaku's stomach into shambles. "That's not what's important though. The important part is that she may have more insight onto the true motives of the Kuchiki clan elders, which is imperative to our mission. Madarame-san is such a simpleton, she'd never expect an ulterior motive, and knowing her, she would find kinship in his crazed mannerisms." Ikkaku just sneered at the scrupulous comment, but refrained from a response as the man continued with a sly smile, "Are you a drinker, Madarame-san?"

Allowing himself the smallest flicker of a smirk, Ikkaku answered, "Only second to a fighter."

"Well, so is Kuchiki Naomi, a hard one. She spends a lot of time away from the manor and at local pubs getting drunk by herself." Cocking an eyebrow, he said leadingly, "Perhaps you should give her some company."

Sneering slightly, Yumichika emoted, "I don't like this idea; it seems dangerous."

Juushiro added, "It does seem rather big a risk. Naomi-san is very intelligent, like you noted. If she realizes what he's doing, she won't hesitate to have Madarame-san arrested."

Twisting his pursed lips, Konoe reasoned, "I'm merely suggesting he earn her good graces, not infiltrate the manor." His eyes flicked impishly towards Ikkaku, as if he was trying to tell him something telepathically. "But it's truly up to Madarame-san."

Without hesitation, Ikkaku narrowed his eyes resolutely and affirmed, "I'm in. I'll do it."

"Ikkaku!" Yumichika incipient protest was cut off by the stanch and unyielding glare of Ikkaku.

"I won't hear it, 'Chika. You know I'm not the type to patiently wait around and do nothing. If I'm helping, then I'm going to do something. If she knows something that could help, then it's worth the risk." At his lover's continued solicitous glare, Ikkaku wished everyone else could just disappear so they wouldn't see this more sentimental side of him. "Everyone here is here because they're willing to risk their lives for this, just like how we risk our lives fighting every day. I know you're worried. I don't want anything to happen to you either, but it's what we have to do. We can't let the fear of losing each other hold us back."

Everyone had the good enough sense to keep any comments to them self, besides Konoe, who smiled hugely and giggled, "How adorable."

Ikkaku just snarled, and Yumichika squeezed his hand tighter before nodding and conceding, "You're right."

With this, Juushiro and Konoe stepped away to talk to some other members. Toshiro followed, but not before giving an genuine warning. "Madarame-san, this truly isn't to be insulting, so don't take it as such, but be careful. Naomi Kuchiki-san is fiercely intelligent, bounds beyond yours and probably mine. Not to mention, she's as mad as a hatter. One misstep and you'll be found out."

Shinji speculated with a halfhearted smirk, "Maybe it's all that intelligence that makes her so mad. When all you can do it think about everything, it must be pretty daunting."

Shuuhei, arms crossed, his austere face silently observing, spoke up, "I'm pretty smart and I'm not crazy."

Nudging his friend slightly, he teased, "Yeah, but you're not _that_ smart."

The punk-esque reaper gave something between a huff and a smirk as he countered, "I was smart enough to be one of the first of the Gotei to realize something was up with Central."

Yumichika let a slight smile tickle his features as he confirmed, "Hisagi-san realized something was adrift before anyone else in the Gotei and started sniffing around himself." He giggled slightly. "Captain was so worried that he'd get himself exposed working alone that he took him into the circle immediately."

"And you know me," Shinji interrupted, "Once a defector, always a defector. Plus, it's the least I can do for Urahara-san and Ichigo-san."

"I think we all feel that way," Ikkaku responded gruffly.

His usually deadpan face assuaged as he cocked an eyebrow towards the heliotrope-haired beauty, stepping a bit closer. "I'm just glad we have your true shikai on our side. Ever since you used it on me, almost _sucked me dry_ , I knew it was something special."

With a supercilious chortle and a slight turn of the nose, Yumichika countered, "I'm surprised you even remember, considering I left you barely with your wits, Hisagi-san."

Giving an evocative huff, Hisagi retorted, "No need to be so formal, call me Shuuhei, _Yumichika,"_ he practically purred, making Ikkaku's blood curdle. He did not like the overt sexual implications in this guy's voice, nor would he stand for someone using Yumichika's name in such an intimate manner. Not that he gave a shit about honorifics, but the absence of one in this guy's mouth was just sickening after the way he eyed Yumichika.

Ikkaku stayed static in his spot but his face vacillated into a threatening glare. "Unless you want him to be calling you dead, don't use Yumichika's name lightly." To this, his lover merely pursed his smirking lips and averted his eyes slightly as he let out an amused huff.

Shinji was looking away awkwardly, humming as he slung his torpid arms into his pockets. Hisagi just nodded and smirked before returning his face back to its usually severe state. "Right. We wouldn't want that." Both of the men turned away as he concluded, "We'll see you two around."

"That fucker has some balls, and right in front of me too," Ikkaku grunted.

"Oh, it's harmless. Besides, no one really knows about out entanglement," Yumichika cajoled before giving his lover a somewhat sensual brush of the shoulder, "Though it was precious seeing you get all territorial like that."

Was it not some unspoken rule that those two belonged to each other exclusively? Ikkaku thought so. Not that he thought of Yumi as something that belonged to him, like some object, but their most intimate parts were reserved for each other. At the almost mocking tone in Yumi's voice, Ikkaku rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah, so fucking cute."

Smirking slightly, he leaned in close enough for his tepid dulcet breath to be felt on Ikkaku's earlobe. "What's the matter, do you want me to suck you dry too? I'll be more than happy to wrap you up in my vines," he purred.

Ikkaku groaned before he turned his head and placed a tender kiss on his suggestive lover's temple, right above his ear. His voice was somewhere between a whisper and a growl as he responded, "Maybe later, I have some business I have to attend to."

The lustful look waffled back into a trouble glare, but Yumichika merely nodded and responded with a sweet smile, "Right, me too."

With that, Ikkaku sauntered away, moving through the moxie of reapers and Seireitei dwellers alike before he found who he was in search for. Despite what people conceived Ikkaku as, he was far from some brainless sack of muscles. No, he too had his own plans for how to deal with the new head of the Kuchiki household and he was going to do this is way. Being in his squad, dealing with crazy was somewhat his expertise; if anyone could do this it would be him.

Selim, who was anchored beside her twin, Jessie, gave Ikkaku an abrasive look as he walked towards them.

In his usual rude and thoughtless manner, Ikkaku greeted, "Poison-chick, I need to talk to you for a bit."

Jessie just averted his eyes and chuckled, knowing no one who wanted anything from his sister would get it by being so brazen. His brotherly impulse wasn't ringing any bells; Selim was complete savage and capable of caring for herself.

Barely dignifying the man with a look, she retorted, "Come back to me when you have a different personality."

Undeterred, he stayed anchored, "Can't, I don't have an eternity. I need your help."

When Selim continued to ignore him, he set his jaw and rolled his eyes. Irately, he added, "It's for the resistance, Selim-san."

Giving his a dubious glared before tapping her chin thoughtfully, she pondered, "What could you possibly need from me?"

Sighing in relief, he asked, "Can your poison only be used through your zanpakutou or can you-?"

He was cut off by a particularly creepy smile stretching the girl's frosted skin and the sound of her amused chuckle. "Oh my, Madarame-san, you want to poison someone?" She batted her eyelashes in a sultry manner. "A man after my own heart." She flicked her tongue slightly before giving a supercilious tousle of the hair. "Every poison type zanpankutou has the capability to withdraw the poison and use it without the sword. It's all about the relationship you have with your sword spirit and if they'll let you have it, seeing as the poison runs through their own blood." Placing her lithe poisoned jaundiced fingers on her chest, she mused, "Me being the strongest poison zanpakutou wielder, you've made a good choice."

At this, Jessie eyes almost rolled out of his head while Ikkaku said, "It's not like I had many choices."

Jessie gave her a reprimanding glare, but still wore his smile. "Now Selim, stop being so arrogant."

Boasting, she gave a scoff and raised her eyebrows. "It's true, most wielders only control one or a two poisons, where as I have a myriad of poisons, and that's only in my shikai form." Letting her tongue roll over her maniacal smirk, she added, "You don't even want to see my bankai." Her eyes widened, as if the thought tantalized her. "It could take out whole cities."

Despite Ikkaku being a sword-happy fighter at his core, he wasn't some sicko who found joy at the idea of killing innocent people, so the way the girl talked about such a thing in such an adventitious manner gave him the creeps.

"Excuse me," she giggled slightly, "Being around Aiko so long made me a-"

Cutting her off, Ikkaku insulted, "A crazy bitch?"

Smiling brilliantly, she corrected, "I was going to say a zealot, actually."

Through clenched teeth, he muttered, "If this chick is as crazy as they say, I don't see why they didn't just ask you. You guys seem like you'd have a lot in common."

Unfazed by Ikkaku's cleverness, she said matter of factly, "Oh, I'm much too intelligent." Giving him a once over, as if she was sizing up his attributes, she concluded, "No, someone of your mental inferiority is much more likely to succeed."

Ikkaku had _had_ it with shots at his intelligence. He was one pointed comment away from releasing his shikai on the poor soul who said it. "I'm plenty smart enough to do what I have to."

With the cool guy smirk and his causal blitheness, Jessie cajoled, "Don't get so worked up, big guy. It's only the truth. Selim, Ulter, and I are all certifiably genius. Captain Hitsugaya-san also, even Hisagi-san is extremely intelligent. As for everyone else, their personalities are just not compatible. You don't look or act like the type of man who'd be knee-deep in a resistance, and if rumors are correct," he added smugly, "you're quite the rowdy one yourself. You're the optimal choice."

Before Ikkaku could retort, Selim quipped humorously, "So, Ikkaku-san, what's your poison?"

Rubbing his head thoughtful, his nostrils flaring as he gave a contemplative huff. "Just something to make her fall asleep."

Poking out her lip slightly, she whined, "No fun. Well, I guess it would be _wrong_ to hurt her." Shaking her head slightly, she merely touched the hit of her sword and released into her shikai. Her hair turning a vibrant green that was only highlighted by the entirety of her eyes turning into blinding alabaster.

As she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, she fell into a prolonged epoch of silence. "What's she doing?" Ikkaku pondered.

"Meditating. She's asking her spirit for its poison. I don't know why, but she has to do it in her released form."

Ikkaku simply nodded and waited in anticipation. After a few more moments, Selim's eyes opened and her form changed back to its normal appearance. Uncoiling her hand, a singular needle was carefully perched on her palm. Ikkaku, without forbearance, held out his hand and let her roll it into his.

"Don't let it prick you, fool," she chastised.

"Yeah, that was exactly my plan," he replied sardonically.

Smiling up at the man, she explained, "Just stir this bad boy in her drink and she'll be out within seconds."

Nodding to signify he understood, he simply said, "Got it, thanks," before turning on his heels to leave.

Throwing his sister a dubious glare as she hummed slightly, rolling back and forth on her heels like a devious child, Jessie asked, "Shouldn't you have told him that stuff only last like fifteen minutes?"

Batting her eye lashes, the impish girl shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't want to make things too boring for him."

 **xXx**

 **Jazzybella: Thank you for your support! I'm glade you're enjoying it because this story is my total baby. Please keep reviewing love. 3**

 **Siwon611: Thanks baby doll! I appreciate the support. I really love Portland because its nick named the 'city of the weird' and every time I read about Portland in the news, theres always something crazy going on, like men wearing glitter in their beards or mysterious sex toys showing up on power lines all around the city. I thought it would make for come good comedy later.**


	3. Chapter 3

_I'm light as a feather._

 _I'm bright as the Oregon breeze_

 _My black shroud,_

 _frightened by my feelings._

 _I only wanna be a relief_

 _No, I'm not a go-getter._

 _The demon had a spell on me._

 _My black shroud._

 _Captain of my feelings,_

 _The only thing I wanna believe. -Sufjan Stevens "I should have know."_

 **xXx**

 **We're A House On Fire**

 **xXx**

Running a strand of silky chestnut hair through his lithe fingers, Byakuya picked up a bobby pin he'd been fumbling with before trying to wrestle an unruly curl into submission. Ichigo was much better at such things, but at the moment, he was packing a lunch for Milly. Since Ichigo had sisters and his mom wasn't around, the girls had had to suffer through an uncountable amount of questionable dad-do's, but after much practice and many ramshackle coiffures, Ichigo was better at doing little girl hair than anyone would have guessed.

It was only Byakuya who got to see these peculiar facets of the dynamic man.

Still, despite practice and guidance from his lover, the new dad was merely an amateur. These were the times he truly wished he had Rukia or Yourichi around or perhaps Ichigo's sisters, the times it would hit him just how much he missed his home. Milly hadn't any female influences who could help her with all the things males tended to be inept to. Growing up in an orphanage and the obvious fact that she'd gone through chemotherapy, she'd never been taught how to do her own hair or any of the other tricks of the trade that every female had to learn. The two dads could only imagine the train wreck that would ensue when they had to talk to her about tampons and bras. Both would be more than happy to pass that torch off to one of the many women role models Milly would have upon returning to Japan.

The fidgety girl bounced back and forth in her school uniform, her hair pulling with every buoyant motion. As she messed up the strand that Byakuya had finally tamed, he huffed slightly and chided sternly, "Milliana, you must quit moving so much."

Holding her hands together to stop her habitually nervous and energetic movements, Milly apologized. "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm just nervous for my game." Turning her head slightly to look up at her dad, she got shooed, Byakuya telling her to keep her head straight. Somewhat demurely, she asked, "Will you be there?"

Mulling over his day's schedule while pinning back another strand of hair, he concluded, "I will try my hardest. I can't promise one way or the other." At the girl's energy becoming more crestfallen and her going silent, an oddity for Milly, Byakuya added, "But let's not worry about things we can't control. Let's worry about your vocabulary words."

The girl's face lit up like a firefly. More than anything, she loved to impress Byakuya with her always improving English vernacular. "Oi! Oi! Throw 'em at me, I'll get every single one!"

Byakuya smirked slightly at the girls self-assurance, something she surely was picking up from her dads, two of the cockiest reapers ever produced by the Soul Society. "Hm, since you're so confident, I won't hold back. Define cynosure."

With ease, she responded, "Cynosure: It has a few different meanings, a focal point, an outstanding example, an important person!" catching herself before she started flailing with excitement and messed up Byakuya's progress.

Nodding slightly, he complimented, "Very nice. Define vanguard."

With a flippant laugh, Milly boasted, "C'mon dad, these are too easy. Vanguard: a noun, meaning forefront." Giving an aslant glance, she said, "You're not going easy on me, are you?"

Byakuya gave a haughty scoff before reassuring, "I would never insult you in such a way. You know pity is not one of my traits." Pondering momentarily, putting the finishing touches on Milly hair, he countered, "Since you're such the walking dictionary, how about supercilious."

For a brief moment, Milly's eyes lit up once more, only to dim slightly as she realized the word's meaning eluded her. "Urmmm," she muttered out, "Supercilious: someone who is super silly."

Byakuya couldn't help but give a light chuckle as he turned the girl around, running this hands over her uniform once to work out any wrinkles in the finally creased garments. He gave his daughter the slightest of smiles. "I believe that would be the definition of Milly," he countered, bending down and giving the girl's cheek a raspberry which caused a fart type sound, an oddly whimsical and uncouth gesture for a man like Byakuya, but one his family had grown accustomed to.

Wiping away the feeling of wet lips, Milly protested with a groan, "Grosssss, Daaad."

A smile tickled his lips as he merely handed the girl her school bag. "Come now, finish getting ready. Your father is making breakfast." Lowering his voice slightly, he teased, "We must make sure he hasn't burnt the food, or worse, himself."

Byakuya wandered into the kitchen and poured himself some freshly brewed coffee while observing Ichigo discreetly. He seemingly flipped through a book that housed his lesson plan for that day while in actuality, he was practicing his espionage, watching Ichigo's cooking from a far.

At the feeling of the circumspect eyes flickering back and forth, trying and failing at being discreet, Ichigo griped, "Why are you watching me? What, you don't trust me?" His eyes dehisced slightly, looking almost surprised that he had been caught in his low key voyeurism. Before he could respond, Ichigo warned, "You better have been checking out my butt or something."

With a soft smirk, Byakuya walked beside Ichigo and teased flatly, "I'm always doing that. I'm merely checking on your progress. We don't have much time before we have to go and I wanted to make sure you didn't burn anything."

Sneering at the comment despite the validity behind Byakuya's concerns, Ichigo countered, "I got this! When yours comes out burnt, it won't be no accident."

The half-baked threat prompted Byakuya to wrap his arms around his spouse's waist, giving him an affectionate hug from behind. How endearing he found Ichigo's valiant attempts to learn new skills; they both were like that. Both men were teaching themselves to be good at things they had never known they'd have to be good at. Who would have known that Byakuya could salvage a raggedy, torn, stuffed dinosaur with a simple sewing needle? He sure didn't.

"I trust in your abilities," he comforted, kissing at Ichigo's ear slightly. "I am the one who taught you everything you know, after all."

"Yeah, yeah," Ichigo smirked, enjoying the feeling of his husband's lips on his lobe. "Don't go kissing up just because I threatened to burn your breakfast."

"I would never," he muttered, more concerned with the sweet taste of Ichigo's skin as he feathered kisses on his neck. After indulging in his pre-breakfast dessert, he said, "Milly is doing a wonderful job at mastering her vocabulary."

Turning around, Ichigo stood face to face with his husband, now wrapping his arms around the Prada-clad waist. "Of course, she has you as a tutor. I'm surprised she hasn't learned the whole dictionary by now."

Huffing at the quip, Byakuya countered, "You make me sound like such a tyrant."

"I only call it as I see it." Whispering in Byakuya's ear, he flirted, "But you're a tyrant with a cute butt."

Purring at the flirtation - that had become somewhat of a morning ritual for the two - Byakuya rebutted, "I don't think such a virtue helps with my teaching skills."

Before turning to pull out some plates from the cabinet, Ichigo said, "It probably deters it. I bet all of your students get distracted by you. They're probably gushing like helpless fan girls, Professor _Tanako_."

After Ichigo set down the plates, finding the sound of his new name falling from Ichigo's perfectly kissable lips exceedingly heady, Byakuya pulled the man back into his grasp. Before planting a kiss on Ichigo's lips, he corrected, "That's Professor Kuchiki to you." The new dads were the exemplification of embarrassingly lovey-dovey parents. Though neither practiced public displays of affection all too often, they both agreed that it was good for Milly to have an example of parents who shared an authentic love towards each other. So many parents stayed together because of responsibilities or convenience instead of actual love, and as a result, those kids would grow up thinking that skewed perspective was what real love looked and acted like.

Breaking from the kiss, Byakuya offered, "You know, I don't mind cooking breakfast. You already do all the cleaning and most of the household responsibilities."

Placing the food on plates, Ichigo reminded, "Because I work from home. It's the least I can do when you're always so busy. I mean, you work two jobs and then come home and grade papers all night." Ichigo was truly a stay at home dad. Though he had a job, it took up such a trifling amount of his time. He even handled the finances, seeing as Byakuya was so inept when it came to money from living a life with a silver spoon. He didn't mind though; it kept him busy and gave his mind something to think about other than his newly acquired melancholy.

Ichigo had been feeling unusually cranky that morning, though in his humble opinion, he hid it well. Kisses from his hunk of a husband helped alleviate some of the unsolicited illogical agitation. Of course, he had no reason to feel this way. This was just a part of the new affliction that he had to deal with, being an inwardly irate brat, only hoping it wouldn't mistakenly slip out in the form of passive aggressive comments or straight-up aggressiveness. After his panic attack, he had looked up the symptoms of depression and anxiety, irritability and mood swings being the most common symptoms of both. Mood swings made it sound like he would turn into some hormone-filled nut case. He had that to look forward to, becoming more like Byakuya's whiny teenage son than his capable partner.

When he finally remembered that today was Milly's parent-teacher conference, he had to swallow down one of those chemically-induced mood swings. In fact, he actually almost cried when he remembered his last conversation with Milly's teacher. Literally, he almost _cried_ just from the thought of the conference. Ichigo knew there was something profoundly wrong with him. Catching himself before the water accumulating in his cornea could turn into actual tears, he avoided Byakuya's gaze while finishing breakfast.

"Um- are you making it to Milly's ice hockey game and the conference afterwards?" Ichigo asked, clearing his throat to hide his fragility.

Looking over his lesson plan, Byakuya glanced up at the odd inflection of Ichigo's voice. He responded honestly, "I will try my hardest."

Despite understanding that it wasn't within Byakuya's control and that he'd be there if it wasn't for the sake of keeping a roof over their heads, something about his declaration made a daunting anger blister in his chest. Quickly, he tried to suffocate the irrational anger with a deep sigh, knowing anything he said at the moment he'd regret. After a brief silence, he responded, "They really want _you_ there, Byakuya." Mocking the voice of Milly's science teacher, Ichigo twisted his face and griped, "They want her _real_ father there."

Ichigo had vaguely brought up the subject to Byakuya the night before, but acted as if it didn't trouble him as much as Byakuya knew it did. His husband was much more readable than he thought he was. Once again grasping onto his partner, Byakuya turned Ichigo around and wrapped him tightly in his arms. " _You're_ just as much her father as I am. Never doubt that."

That daunting irritation was dampened by the comforting presence of Byakuya, as it usually was. No matter how upset he could get, his heart would always swell with warmness when the raven-haired beauty acted so tenderly towards him. Averting his eyes slightly, he resigned to show a scintilla of his true anguish, for even though he was trying hide his disparaging mental status, he felt so comfortable and loved around Byakuya that he couldn't help but share some of his troubles, and since Byakuya told him every time one of his incompetent students got on his nerves or whenever he had a bad day, Ichigo felt guilty for trying to hide away some of his fallibilities.

Demurely, he muttered, "Yeah, well not according to them."

This caused Byakuya to pull him in closer, placing soft kisses on his lover's opalescent and twisted features. "Well they're completely asinine." Kissing from his cheek to his neck, he added, "Absolutely incompetent. Would you like me to go inform them of how utterly sophomoric they're being? I'll intimidate them for you."

Ichigo chuckled inwardly, Byakuya had been using more advanced vernacular than usual since he'd been helping Milly with her English classes. He couldn't help but think he'd never heard a vocabulary word sound so sexy.

Smirking, he reasoned, "I don't want her to get kicked out. Geez."

Trading the sultry kissing for a reprimanding glare, Byakuya chide softly, "If you actually believe anything they're saying, then _you're_ the asinine one, and Byakuya Kuchiki doesn't associate with the senseless."

Though his words seemed somewhat harsh, they were varnished with affection. Byakuya knew when Ichigo was pitying himself, and also knew just how to pull him out of it. Overall, he knew Ichigo better than anyone, maybe even better than he knew himself.

At the tough love, Ichigo huffed, but pressed his forehead against his husband's, allowing ebony strands of hair to grace his now relaxed face. With a more halcyon disposition, Ichigo thanked, "You always know how to get me out of my feelings. I love you."

Feeling mirthful at Ichigo's returned calmness, Byakuya said, "That's only because we match together so perfectly." Before meeting their lips for a brief yet sensual kiss, he said, "You can always come to me with anything you're feeling."

' _You're such a fucking pain in the ass. Poor Byakuya, he's practically perfect and just wants you to open up to him, but you won't! Some husband_ , _"_ Zangetsu groused. This had become an unavoidable nuisance ever since the attack. Ichigo just didn't hold the mental strength to keep him at bay, this in itself made him realize just how brittle he'd become. Still Ichigo just pushed out the annoying voice that had become like static, background noise to his train of thought.

Milly finally found her way out of her room, giving her customary 'ew' at the affection.

Smirking at the girl's exclamation, Ichigo announced, "It's about time for breakfast, Milly." Bringing a plate over to the small dining table that lay adjacent to the kitchen, he turned back quickly to grab the girl's lunch. Walking over to his daughter, who was just as loquacious as ever, telling Byakuya about her game and her end of the semester science project, he held out the bag. "Here, put this is your bag, kid." He smiled.

She returned the smile brilliantly, exclaiming, "Thank's o-nii-chan," before she blithely skipped back to her room, leaving Ichigo with his hand still dangling, addled by confusion.

Byakuya shared the same look of bewilderment. Looking back in the direction of the galloping child, he asked with the slightest of inflections, "When did she start calling you brother?"

Ichigo's hand finally dropped as his face simultaneously melted into a more resigned glare. Giving a rather equitable shrug of the shoulders, "Now, I guess," he speculated, his voice sounding rather passive aggressive.

Placing down his messenger bag, Byakuya's voice was more provoked than usual as he moved towards her room. "Well, I'm going to say something to her. I won't let her dishonor you in such a manner."

Ichigo place a hand on the man's midsection while grasping his wrist slightly. "Don't Byakuya, I'm sure she's just going through some phase," he deterred.

This only intensified his look of bafflement. Flatly yet irately, he chided, "Your hands-off approach to parenting is why she believes she can address you in such a way."

There was a moment of cringe-worthy silence as Ichigo's features gaped slightly at his husband's deceleration. All of that unexplainable anger turned into genuine anger. Did Byakuya really feel that way? Did he think Ichigo was a bad parent? Though lately it was becoming harder and harder to differentiate between his undeserved and true anger, he knew this heat building inside of him was as authentic as it got. Still, knowing he was now a dad and a husband, he did try to hold back his more brash side, curbing his hotheaded tendencies.

Byakuya was rarely a man to say what he didn't mean, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to take it all back. Even a logical and cool headed man as himself could fall victim to irrationality at times. He had merely been offended for Ichigo's sake and was addled by how casual the man seemed towards it. Far more than anything, Ichigo had been his safety net, his lighthouse in the dark, always lifting him up when he stumbled. He never wanted to make Ichigo feel inferior or as if he didn't appreciate his comforting presence in his life.

A huge scowl twisted Ichigo's stricken face and his efforts to calm himself failing. "That's not fair, Byakuya!" he whisper-yelled at the man, trying to not let Milly hear but still obviously irascible towards the subject. "If we bombard her, she'll feel attacked and it will discourage her to actually talk to us. If you go in there waving around your authority, she may just clam up or lie!" he reasoned, not even close to finished with his diatribe. "It's better if we approach her more subtly or come at it from a different perspective. We get her to talk without making her feel attacked." Ichigo's eyes narrowed at the man in disbelief, shaking his head slightly before he gave a bemused scoff. "I can't believe you. What? Just because I think we should do things differently you think I don't care?"

The question must have been rhetorical or Ichigo just didn't care to hear the answer, because he turned without haste, making his way back towards the kitchen. His heedless and miffed movements were cut short by his wrist being grabbed by Byakuya. Being pulled back in, his face was huffing as he averted his eyes. He was still too heated to even look the man in the face without the possibility of spewing venom.

Ignoring his husband's obvious boundaries and need for space, Byakuya cupped Ichigo's brimstone-colored cheeks in his hand and brought his snide honey orbs to meet his apologetic world pool of grey. "Ichigo…" His calming severe voice seemed to pacify Ichigo to a point where he'd listen. Still, he yanked his face rather viciously, showing his teeth slightly like an angry animal. "Please forgive my obtuse behavior. I-" He cut himself off, trying to figure the most authentic way of conveying his feelings. "I could not do any of this without you. Your presence in my and Milly's life is more important and meaningful than I could ever convoy with words. I was just taken aback by how she addressed you. I was rather offended for you and let my own feelings dictate my words." Dipping his head slightly to signify his humbleness, he grasped Ichigo's hand and kissed it gently. "I didn't mean what I said. I'm not perfect. I too make mistakes."

God, Ichigo could have imploded right there, because he wanted to be angry. He wanted to tell Byakuya where he could stick it and then storm off like a bratty child, but how could he? How could he be so unforgiving when Byakuya stood there, so humbled and sincere, calm yet tender, overflowing with affection? It just wasn't in him. He couldn't stay mad at this man.

Ichigo face was still stuck in a snarl but it was obvious to see that his features were softening, placating at the atonement. "Yeah, well trust me, I know ya' ain't perfect." He yanked his hand away and crossed his arms. "I live with you every day, so I know, but…" Now he let his heavy languid arms droop by his side passively, his voice mitigating as he continued. "Even your flaws come from a good place. That's why I still like them… even if things like this happen every once in a while." Ichigo sighed in defeat, realizing he would rather have his arms around his lover than trying to avoid his gaze all together. Letting go of all of his anger, he once again returned to the man's arms, a place that always felt like home. After a moment of conforming yet haunting silence, Ichigo finally said, "I know you didn't mean what you said. It's just unlike you to let your emotions get the better of you. That's more my thing, ya' know… but…" He smiled softly, looking up to his husband's curious orbs, "It's actually kind of nice to see… it makes you seem all the more human…" Speaking softer now, he barely grazed his lips against Byakuya's as continued, "I'm glad I'm the person you show those parts to…"

"I want to give you all of my parts, Ichigo. They're only for you and you alone." Unable to contain his wanton love and desire, he pulled Ichigo back in for a kiss, to which he silently complied. The professor couldn't believe that there was once a time where this was so out of his grasp. Now he had free range to shower Ichigo with his full affection. It was almost overwhelming at times. Being able to share these moments and share his feeling with his companion, his life partner, it was all he ever wished for and never thought he could obtain. Now that he had it, how could he not overindulge, fill his stagnate voracity that sat unquenched for decades upon decades?

"We'll deal with this Milly situation tonight, yes?" Byakuya questioned, pulling out of the embrace.

"Yeah," Ichigo agreed. "Try to make it tonight, will ya'? Don't leave me alone with those vultures." He scowled slightly, showing his obvious distaste at the idea of facing off against those know-nothing teachers. Byakuya was a lot better at diplomacy than he, and bounds above him in decorum.

Earnestly, Byakuya reassured, "I'll do anything that's within my power."

 **xXx**

It was still rather early in the day when Ichigo had finished most of the household chores he'd set aside to do. It was tedious overall, but he really didn't mind since it was a great way to pass his newly acquired time. Ichigo had to push himself to go for a run; it seemed a lot of things were forced these days. It was as if finding the motivation for normal daily actives was like a fight against gravity. Still, he never let the pull overtake him. He never resigned to the daunting apathy that had become his constant companion, like a friend that just didn't know when to leave. He did this because it was what he had to do; it's what he did. Kurosaki Ichigo overcame and he refused to be torpedoed like this. More so, he did it because underneath that apathy and agitation, that malaise and the nerves, was something much greater.

That's how he knew this wasn't him, because at his crux, his urge to be a good husband and father was overwhelming. His reservoir for affection for those two was infinite, absorbing any doubts to give in to his crippling state of mind. It was his brain and he was in control; at least, that's what he had been telling himself.

Their apartment had quite the large patio, about three times the size of a normal one, and was surrounded by glass windows that could be opened on a sunny and breezy day. When Ichigo had first moved here, he'd often spent a lot of time on the patio with his bare feet against the red hued wood of the floorboards and his disheveled hair swaying against the breeze. For the longest time, he'd worked on his art, seeming to thrive in the solitude by turning any pain he felt into creative energy. After he'd finished his professional work and house work, he'd spend hours amongst the frayed bristles of the bamboo paint brushes, the acrylic smell of water-filled mason jars, muddied by the hodgepodge of maroons, emeralds, and the perfectly mixed turquoises that would take multiple tries to perfect. In these simplicities, he found solace, and more so, he found gratification.

However, now the whole ambience seemed to just taunt him. His art utensils sat idly on a plastic-covered table just mocking him, a constant monument to his fragile identity that seemed to be slipping through his fingers. Something he loved had turned into just another hassle, another push, and what scared him was he wasn't pushing back this time. He couldn't find the mental wellness to even look at his blank canvas. It made him wonder, would other things he loved become just another pain, his chemically unbalanced mind unable to push pass the mounds of abjection filled bridle?

What caused him the most dejection was that he wanted to paint or perhaps, he wanted to want to paint, but instead felt numb and indifferent towards his once beloved passion. There was a wall in the way. It was that want to want, those parts of him that shone through yet seemed to become more and more infinitesimal by the day that gave him hope. He knew his true self and his real wants. This alien invader imposing as him, controlling his emotions, he wouldn't let him take over. This wasn't him.

Still as much as he missed the feeling of calluses caused by hours of holding bamboo in his paint-varnished grasp, he knew that longing wasn't enough. The other him won out again. He knew it, even his paint brushes knew it. They sat there representing all of his inadequacy, the first of who knows how many losses he would lose to this 'other self.' When he looked at them, he just felt his true self judging him, and he had to walk away. They both knew today wasn't the day.

For a while, he fumbled around awkwardly, avoiding the patio while trying to find a way to preoccupy his time. When he was younger, from time to time, he would just sit around a do nothing, watching TV, but now that such inertia felt like an impulse instead of a want, he wouldn't do it. He just couldn't, not when all he felt like doing was lying down and not getting up; it felt too much like defeat.

After aimlessly walking through his apartment for a moment, Ichigo found himself in his and Byakuya's bedroom. On a bedside table lay the novel, 'The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao', a book one of Byakuya's coworkers insisted he read to get a good grasp on modern American literature- opened and flat where he had stopped reading. Often the couple would read together. Ichigo would sit on his husband's lap and wrap his arms around his neck, following along. Byakuya even took pity on his lackluster English skills and read slower; if not for that, the book would have been finished in the course of the night. The man was a veritable softy inside, whether he admitted it or not. It was something special they did for just the two of them, and though it was simple, it was Ichigo's favorite simplicity. At some point last night, Ichigo had fallen asleep while he'd been perched on Byakuya's lap and his head buried within his palatial strands of hair. Byakuya must had stopped reading so the two could finish together. He could tell from the page the book was opened at.

Ichigo smiled nostalgically at the thought, running his fingers across the crisp ink-stained pages. It was then he caught the strong whiff of Byakuya's scent: sakura blossoms. At the tantalizing smell, he thought back to this morning and the gentle kisses his husband had besieged him with. The thought made the kissed areas tingle as a warm frothy heat filled his stomach and worked its way through the rest of his extremities. Just the thought was enough to get him hot and heavy.

When he was reading, he found that depression often depletes a person's sex drive. However, as of right now, that was a non-issue, for he became lambent from his own stifling attraction at merely the thought of his husband. Oddly enough, when he was younger, sex was trifling, if not completely off his radar. Now he seemed to gain hard-on's like an inexperienced teenage boy, the simplest things sending him over the edge. Just an aslant glare or a rubbing of the thigh could cause an unsolicited interruption. Half the time, his reading time with Byakuya would be cut short because he could simply not be horny while sitting on the man's lap. The professor would always just smirk at his lascivious husband, enjoying the earnestness of Ichigo's body.

Though his raging desire often caused him embarrassment, it was always fugaciously so. Even if it was met with a scowl or a huff, Ichigo always gave in to his own voracity. Not to mention, being in such a comfortable and trusting relationship gave him the opportunity to explore what he enjoyed sexually, whereas before he hadn't even wanted sex, let alone was he interested in exploring his inner hedonic hang-ups.

Yes, despite the humiliation caused by the newness of all this, life was too short to pretend he wasn't as kinky as he was, especially with such a sybaritic husband as Byakuya Kuchiki. That man was a sexual carnivore whose diet consisted of only Ichigo. It was because of him that Ichigo knew he liked it rough, hair-pulling, ass-slapping, neck-squeezing rough. He thrived in the sensation of being dominated by someone who he trusted so fervently, which was so opposite from his normal self.

Although they both seemed to have unquenchable sexual gluttony, it wasn't as if they were doing it like bunnies. More often than not, after Byakuya returned from work, he stayed up late into the evening while grading schoolwork. When he finally crawled into bed, he found himself too drained to wake his sleeping partner and indulge his late night cravings. This was just the consequence of their lives. Once a couple had a family and adult lives to maintain, even if they'd rather hide away under the sheets for the rest of time, there would always be things in the way. It's said that couple's sex lives, after being together so long, would often burn out

Though Ichigo didn't think he'd have to worry about such a thing. Not because he thought of himself as some special fucking snowflake who defied the rules, but because he felt many people became complacent because they settled from the get go. They deemed their partner 'good enough,' maybe even convincing themselves that it was some deep passion, but eventually the truth would always surface. _True_ love wasn't something you could find at the bottom of a crackerjack box, it was rare and more times than not, out of reach. Because he and Byakuya had been so rarely enticed by anyone, such a strong connection was bounds beyond 'good enough.' It was an ineffable experience really, to meet someone and know they were it, to have absolutely no doubts clouding your mind. It was scarce, but it was out there, and the two had found it in each other.

More so, even if it was true love, if the flame burnt out it was probably because someone had stopped stoking it. That was Ichigo's fear: that one day this menacing presence would seep into that part of his life to. The thought that it would stop him from desiring the man he thirsted for more than anything was agonizing. Though it seemed impossible, just two weeks ago, he would have said the same thing about his painting hiatus. If something like that were to happen, how could he keep in from Byakuya? Even if he pushed himself, what if he didn't get erect? What if Byakuya thought it was him? He'd be forced to be forthright with his new brittleness, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Ichigo abrogated the negative thought, seeing as it wasn't a problem in the slightest as of now, if the half hard erection filling his pants meant anything. As his thoughts went back to his husband's exquisitely crafted physique, Ichigo felt a visceral need to touch himself.

Unbuttoning his trousers and lying back on the bed, Ichigo grasped his length firmly and began tugging at himself with gentle yet consistent motions. He softly squeezed at his head, thumbing his slit in-between circumnavigating the nerve-riddled pleasure spot. As he thought about how much he loved when Byakuya would tease him with a twirl of his tongue, flicking the head at pain-staking rates until Ichigo was begging for relief, a soft moan was drawn from his parted lips. With his lips limp and aquiver, Ichigo used all of his senses to recall his lover. As he counted down the alluring touches, sounds, smells, feelings, and sights of his potent Byakuya, it seemed to only quicken his movements. Each lewd thought increased the velocity of his frantic and sloppy pulling.

Memories came and went, zooming by like a high-speed summary of their lives together.

The feeling of Byakuya's soft lips pressing into his writhing and flushed skin over and over. _'Faster.'_

The sound of a sultry yet stern baritone huffing and moaning in Ichigo's ear as he was taken from behind. _'Please.'_

The disheveled look of Byakuya as he loosened his tie after work, showing off his defined collar bones and ruddy skin. _'More, Byakuya.'_

Working his way to climax was daunting by himself, for it was now near to impossible to get there without probing his entrance. He was just too used to the feeling of Byakuya that his mere touch was nothing more than a half-cocked stand in. Still his thoughts of the man were a radical stimulus, heaving him towards the zenith of his sexual pleasure.

Now jerking wildly, his cock twitched as he bucked his hips into his own grasp. He was teetering on a gossamer string of cupidity, a few bumbling movements away from falling off. "Byakuya," the wanton voice rasped wistfully, biting his lip and tightening his eyelids at the feeling he got when the man's name left his mouth.

To his utter shock, his call was answered. "Yes?" an oppressive contralto asked, so obviously filled with lustful curiosity.

Without haste, Ichigo shot up and stuffed himself back into his pants like he was a teenager who'd gotten caught by their parents. He left his pants undone while leaning back on his palms, huffing and grunting slightly from the aching pain radiating from his confined member. He took a moment to eye Byakuya meticulously, for he looked just as he had in his fantasy. He was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his hands slung in his pockets. The tie noosed around his neck was loosened, making the man look somehow refined yet bedraggled at the same time. The well-pressed blazer he usually donned had been abandoned, leaving only his pristinely fitted button-up clinging to his body with the sleeves rolled up, showing off the man's robust alabaster forearms. The stillness of his normal face remained, almost eerily so. His eyelids were heavy, as if they were being weighed down by his lust. Ash eyes burned with severity, staring down the man almost predatorily while his lips twitched to form the slightest of smirks, one so unrecognizable that anyone else would have missed it. The peek-a-boo of florid flesh colored the protruding bones of his pectorals, signaling a heat radiating within him.

The man let out a loaded huff, practically slicing the humid milieu with his heady sharp breaths. It was obvious Byakuya had walked in at some point and caught Ichigo in this compromising position, choosing to remain silent and admire from a distance. Even more apparent, the man was helplessly turned on, his pants button seemingly working overtime to contain that behemoth Byakuya liked to called a dick. Yes, he was Ichigo's little voyeur.

"Byakuya," Ichigo said, his voice somewhere between a moan and normal. His fingers were twitching with impatience, now needing climax more than he could stand. "I didn't think you'd be home so early…"

For a brief moment, Byakuya stayed silent, his biting glare vacillating to Ichigo's bulging nether regions as he bit his lip, seemingly lost to all other on-goings. Still glaring, with a flat voice yet a tonality smothered with avidity, the man said, "Obviously." Now licking his lips slightly, he finally looked Ichigo in the eyes as he said, "Please, don't let me stop you," with a cock of the eyebrows and a flicker of a smile.

The blond sneered and said, "I know what you want," before his lips twisted into a knowing smirk.

Byakuya sauntered to the edge of the bed, looking down at his lover almost impishly. This prompted Ichigo to move to the end up the bed, getting on his knees to make himself eye level with Byakuya. The opulent man's voice was authoritative mixed with a hint of playfulness and a dash of disappointment as he let his humid breath float over Ichigo's ear, whispering, "And? Do you not want to put on a show for me?" His tonality became more playful as he griped, "and after I jumped through hoops to get off _especially_ early. How disappointing."

The sweltering voice made Ichigo shiver a bit, his whole body warmed up with an overwhelming desire towards the playful man. If Byakuya wanted to play, Ichigo could be just as frisky. Slowly unbuttoning his own shirt, Ichigo perked an eyebrow, teasing casually, "That's not how life works, Byakuya. Your golden star is making your family happy." He gave a crooked smirk, adding, "But I guess since you tried so hard, I can reward you."

With their lips millimeters apart, both feeding off of the suffocating energy of each other's tepid breath, Ichigo crept his flat hand down his defined breast muscles and trailed his nimble fingers down his perfectly crafted core. He let his digits hover above his pelvis for a moment, feathering and teasing the sensitive area. He continued to his trajectory while keeping his severe honey orbs on Byakuya, running his leathery grasp to the denim-clad bulge before he palmed the aching appendage.

Coal orbs traversed Ichigo's perfectly contrived body as slowly and painstakingly as his own hand did, following along to his intimate destination, watching as the man teased himself for the pleasure of his lover. "You're so bad, Ichigo. You want me so badly you couldn't even hold out until tonight." His voice was pointedly facetious in an attempt to rile him up. "Where's all of that stubborn willpower?"

As if they were having a contest to who could stay anchored the longest, they both were situated with merely the most minute amount of space between their quivering bodies, only letting their flushed skin graze each other every once in a while, just enough to tickle in all the right ways. The susurration of Ichigo's libertine voice rang in Byakuya eardrum. "I bet I have more willpower than you," he challenged.

"And how do you plan to test that theory?" purred Byakuya as he eyed the man curiously.

"Watch me, but no touching yourself… or me," he growled slightly. "I give you ten minutes before you want to explode… Unless of course, you don't think ya' can hold out."

Smirking slightly, Byakuya countered smugly, "And when I win?"

"Then you can have me whichever way you want, but when I win," Ichigo muttered while nibbling on Byakuya's ear lobe, "I get to take _you_ this time."

This elicited an animalistic growl from the raven-haired man. "It seems like a win-win situation from my perspective, but you know I've never been one to turn away from a challenge. I'll even give you fifteen minutes." With that, Byakuya turned on his heels and sat in a lounging chair situated in the corner of the room. Propping an elbow on the arm of the chair, he rested his cheek slightly against his hand, trading his usually refined stature for a more lackadaisical potion while looking at Ichigo with a smug intrigue.

This wasn't the first time Byakuya had wanted a 'show' and it wasn't Ichigo's first performance. The first time he'd suggested it, Ichigo was irascible and abashed, more ready to fight his husband than flaunt for him. Still, eventually Ichigo had given in; he credited that to those hypnotic coal oculus that could will him into anything. He sure didn't mind challenging the man sexually, helping him discover his body's true vagaries. Though the first few times Ichigo was rather self-conscious, bumbling around awkwardly, feeling like an idiot, now he was more confident in his abilities.

More often than not, Byakuya was the dominant one in their tryst, as he had such a confidence and such a sexual artistry behind that reserved demeanor, and that was just the way Ichigo liked it. Still the nature of their relationship had always been to challenge each other, and it wasn't in Ichigo's makeup to make such dominance easy. Especially when he was growing more and more comfortable with his erotic and playful side every day. He loved to make Byakuya fight for it.

Though it wasn't very often Ichigo topped his husband, he was feeling more raptorial today than usual, so he needed to make this good.

Standing on his knees facing towards Byakuya, there was no blushing or sneering, not this time. Ichigo ran his thumb down his parted lips and trailed it down his neck leisurely. With one hand he grasped the sensitive parts of his neck, feeling the thumping heat of his coursing blood. With the other, he laid his coarsen hands flat on his torso, running the tough skin over the velvety taupe sides, the difference of the textures only augmenting the sensitivity. He continued to use his hand to work over his body attentively, working his way down lower and lower. He'd viciously pull at his most sensitive areas, every so often teasing his boxer-clad erection while letting out a manly resonant moan. Above the definition of his hip bone, Ichigo took each individual finger and pressed the pads into the hypersensitive inflamed tendons, causing him to bite his lip hard and brace his trembling knees.

Byakuya licked his lips at the man's honest reaction to taunting one of his most sensitive areas. His fingers twitched in desire and caused him to clench his hand shut, resisting the urge to stroke himself.

Ichigo's fingers titillated the light-toned orange bristles that trailed down from his naval before he'd crept his fingers across the fray of soft pubic hair peeking from his boxer briefs. For a brief moment, Ichigo let his digits tickle the strands as he used his other hand to grasp his own ass. His jeans and boxers were sagging off of his trimmed figure, making him look carelessly disheveled, but it the sexiest way. Finally, Ichigo's firm grip began yanking at his own member in rhythmic yet fierce motions, still veiling his hardened length within the fabric.

"Show me," Byakuya growled, his statement yielding very little room for opposition.

Ichigo just smirked smugly and used his free hand to shimmy his briefs down slightly, leaving his whole length exposed, rutilant and pulsating.

On the bedside table lay a glass of ice water, right beside the book Byakuya had been reading. Never relinquishing his hold on his member, he leaned over, grabbed the cup, and drank from it. As he set the cup back down, a half-melted piece of ice was situated between his teeth. Byakuya let out a breathy chuckle at Ichigo, thinking he'd never seen him so sexually flagrant. Such an unrestrained Ichigo was hard to keep his hands off of. He watched as the ice melted, the frigid water dripping down his chin and rolling past his chest and stomach, making him glisten slightly. The man took the ice with his free hand and strolled the tip of it across his calescent skin, the extreme temperature difference stimulating his most tender areas to their apex.

With eleven minutes left and Byakuya still looking unflappable, Ichigo shimmed from his pants, leaving himself fully exposed. He rolled onto his hands and knees, leaving his finest asset facing the man. Byakuya let out a contained and frustrated huff, his mouth watering at the sight Ichigo's succulent and shapely ass as he began to finger his entrance, exhibiting his salaciousness for his husband. Oh, how Byakuya envied those fingers. While holding his body up with one hand, Ichigo's back arched as he let out a much more potent gritty moan. He began thrusting into his own finger, quickly moving from one to two.

Still, Byakuya didn't move; he merely watched with his full captivation. With only seven minutes left of their little game, Ichigo decided to make every second count. He was feeling unusually frisky and was determined to win their bet. Besides, the way Ichigo saw it, who knew if one day his desire for this would plateau against his own will. The frightening notion only made him want to please his partner more.

Ichigo got off the bed and grabbed some lube out of the top drawer and the cup of ice water off the dresser before he swaggered over to his husband. He loomed over him for a moment, merely smirking wolfishly. It intrigued the audience, making him wonder what exactly Ichigo's final act was going to be. After unbuttoning Byakuya's shirt and loosening his belt, Ichigo once again placed a piece of ice between his teeth. Starting from the veiny girth of the man's neck and working his way down past the exquisitely crimson thorax, to the perked nipples, and through the valley of muscles solidifying his obliques, Ichigo teased the most sensitive areas with the cube before he wantonly tugged at the skin with his warm hands, offering a stinging sensation of pain and pleasure.

Byakuya fought his muscles' natural inclination to spasm and arch at the sensation, for the taunting was almost maddening. Still he fought against it. What kind of man would he be if he couldn't even hold out another five minutes? Byakuya huffed and looked at his husband, who was now down on his knees unfastening his pants and pulling them down slightly. "You're pulling out all the stops, I see," he said with a smirk, "but your time is running out. I suppose I'll start considering which way I'll be taking you."

Ichigo just grinned at the man and countered confidently, "I'll make you eat those words, Byakuya. Five minutes is plenty." Cocking an eyebrow at the man, he mused, "I know your weakness."

This only seemed to amuse Byakuya more. He gave an arrogant chortle and bragged, "I didn't believe I had any of those in regards to our love making. Please, educate me."

With this, Ichigo wrapped his hands around Byakuya's thighs and jolted him quickly, much to the man's surprise. He was situated with his ass hanging half off the seat and his head slumped down to the middle of the chair. It was a rather awkward position, but interest and thirst threw all care aside.

As Ichigo pulled down his pants and boxers slightly, exposing his hardened length, he informed, "Its pride." The man feathered the appendage with gentle frosty kisses up and down while simultaneously rubbing lube between his hands.

At the man teasing him with the breathy kisses and flicks of the tongue, Byakuya sneered slightly, pondering, "What do you mean?"

"Ya' know," Ichigo growled with an airy tenor while rubbing his lubed finger against Byakuya's entrance. "The few times I've done this to you, you've always stopped me and changed positions." Now pressing the finger slightly into the tensed passageway, Ichigo bit his lip and speculated, "I don't think it's because you don't like it, but because you like it a little too much."

Byakuya took a sharp breath at the feeling of being probed by Ichigo's adept fingers, feeling him slowly yet consistently loosen him up. His face was somewhere between aroused and irked as he watched the man once again start lapping at his shaft while he still delved into him.

Ichigo already knew he'd won at the first whimper he'd heard leave Byakuya's lips, but he felt the need to press the point, flaunt his victory. Between licks, Ichigo muttered, "Because you barely let me take you, your body's so sensitive to this." He was now playing with Byakuya's prostate, yielding deep moans that Byakuya tried to stifle. "So sensitive that when I do it, you cum really," he dragged out his words, making them exceedingly heady, " _reaaally quickly_. Byakuya Kuchiki, coming in five minutes like some horn-dog teen - that's worse than how I was," he mocked, stroking the man as he simultaneously stroked his autocratic nature. "That must really hurt your pride, not being able to control yourself like that, and if you're not quick." He was then making room for a second finger, massaging the man's bundle of nerves with metrical motions, causing an uncontrollable moan from the receiver. "all that pride won't mean anything while I'm making you get off in my mouth… You _could_ always stop me, if you wanted," he offered before focusing his mouth's full attention on Byakuya's flushed cock, wrapping it up in his toasty and wet mouth.

He effortlessly and zealously worked over the man's most sensitive areas, forcing his body into complete submission. Ichigo was well versed in the kinks of Byakuya, fluent in how to play with his body in such a way that he'd elicited only the most pleasure. It was as if his mouth and fingers were forcing him into pliability, sucking away the last bit of arrogant willpower Byakuya thought he had. As Ichigo's pursed lips hastened and he'd opened up his throat, filling his airways until his lips pressed against the base of Byakuya's member, he would frantically twirl his tongue along the shaft. Though his moves were rapid, they were equally meticulous, thrusting Byakuya closer and closer to capstone of sexual pleasure and crumbling away all of his resolution.

The blond was drenched with his own saliva, his mouth helplessly frothing from the sucking. Byakuya's deep moans filled his ears as he felt his whole body tighten. Knowing his husband was close only made him moan in suit, hurrying his motions even more.

This was Byakuya's comeuppance. It was obvious that he'd always loved when Ichigo did this to him; he only allowed it so sparingly out of some frivolous shame he'd felt for being so utterly out of control of his own body. To him, that equated to lacking self-discipline and made him feel like an incompetent lover. It was childish really, but still, he'd had hoped he could last past the five minute mark, concreting his own foolish pride. It was futile. His body was moments away from crumbling into a puddle of pure afterglow. Either decision he made would be a mark on his own personal willpower, but that was the point. Around Ichigo, silly pride meant nothing. Ichigo had always been forcing him into humbling himself, and that's just the way he liked it.

Still, he had rather taken the path to defeat that was chosen rather than involuntary. Feeling his body quaking, all but seconds away from peaking, he grabbed the scruff of Ichigo's hair and pulled him rather roughly from his current task. Ichigo just gave a knowing smirked as Byakuya looked down at him and growled, "You don't play fair."

Before any response could be yielded, Byakuya stood and lifted up Ichigo with him, still pulling him by his scruff, knowing his husband enjoyed the little bit of pain that came with it. They both fell into a tug-o-war with each other's limbs, pulling at each other's skin so wildly. All of that agitated desire pouring out in the form of helter-skelter like kissing and uncontrollable touching. Their hands moved expeditiously and without thought, as if they were junkies getting high off of the chemical reactions induced from skin to skin contact, only desiring to get just one more taste.

Byakuya was cupping Ichigo's ass, fondling it as Ichigo's arms intertwined through the spider-hued tresses. He carelessly stumbled back onto the bed, never breaking his vacuum-sealed osculation while Ichigo fell back with him. It didn't take long before Ichigo's fingers found their way to Byakuya's loosened access, quickly yet pleasurably fingering his husband until Byakuya started thrusting back, signaling he was ready for more.

Lining himself up with Byakuya, he never broke the magnetic collision of kisses. "I want inside of you," Ichigo moaned barely over a whisper, his words stifled by their lip tugging.

At this point, Byakuya was just able to let out a gravelly freight-train type growl. Ichigo had propelled him towards an orgasm and back again twice, and his body was frail from the sexual red-light green-light. Hearing the growl, Ichigo buried his face in the plush hair and spoke in a spine-chilling whisper. "Don't worry, Bya'. I'll make this last a long time." Filling the man with his trembling phallus, he rumbled, "I'll go _really_ slow."

Byakuya inhaled sharply, almost forgetting to breathe at the oxygen-seizing sensation of Ichigo impaling him while kneading at his prostate with his painstaking slow rotations of the hips. Upon the feeling of Byakuya's aperture vicing the confines of his manhood, Ichigo held back his own climax. Though he preferred to be the one being invaded, it wasn't hard to understand why Byakuya loved doing this to him so much, for the tightness made it seem like Byakuya's whole's essence was trying to squeeze him dry, silently begging for his surging virility to saturate him.

The submissive man rolled his hips, inviting, if not pleading for the man to railroad him. Yet Ichigo kept with his almost sadistically gradual infiltration, all while suckling at the man's kindled nipples and imprisoning his wrist above his head, leaving the state of Byakuya's body under his control. "Damn, baby," Ichigo huffed, anchoring a hand to Byakuya's hip in order to help deepen his stabs, "You feel amazing." His words were barely heard through his parched voice. If someone had told Ichigo five years ago that he'd be saying something so lewd and bared face or calling anyone baby, he'd probably tell them they were delusional. Then again, he would have said the same thing if someone had told him he'd be married to one of the most beautiful men in the Soul Society, fucking him on the bed they shared together.

The whole experience was beautifully torturous. Byakuya felt like an active volcano constantly suspended between sputtering and eruption. Over and over again, Ichigo brought him to the brim of his pleasure limits, just a twitch away from his body releasing all of the agonizing tension building inside of him, but as if he could read his body's intentions clearly, he'd always draw back, pulling him away from the edge. It was the definition of torture, but from Ichigo, Byakuya was a pain-seeking sadist, imploring the man for more genitive lacerations. The only sounds that could be drawn from the quaking lips were beastly moans beseeching him to ram him harder because this mind-altering samba Ichigo was doing to his body sent him flying. Ichigo's lust was an opiate, it was influenza encompassing his core. Yes, if sharing in this bliss with Ichigo was the cause, Byakuya would gladly be a martyr. If Ichigo was his capture, he didn't mind being tyrannized. At least, not this once anyway.

They continued like this for a while, and for a while, neither noticed Byakuya's cellphone ringing. Even when they did, Byakuya told for him to ignore it and to keep pounding into him. It wasn't until the intruder called for the third time that Ichigo let out a frustrated huff. "You better check that," he reasoned, still not relinquishing his lips from the dulcet skin of his husband. "They've called a lot; it could be Milly's school."

With that, he rolled off the man, lying beside him. The now irritable Byakuya threatened, "For the sake of whoever's on the other line, this had better be worth the interruption."

Ichigo just planted a kiss on the man's shoulder and chuckled, "Don't worry, it's not like I'm going anywhere."

Byakuya stood up and retrieved the pants he had carelessly marooned and took the phone from the pocket. He didn't even try to sound cordial or the least bit formal as he answered the phone. "What?" he bit. There was a brief silence where Byakuya's face gaped slightly before it settled back into its usual stoicism. "We were informed th-" He went silent for a moment. Ichigo saw his hand twitch in frustration. He was not the type of man who took well to being cut off, but he had always been the type to know when and when not to speak out. "I have previous priorities with my family," he continued finally. After another silent moment, Byakuya huffed and complied, "Yes, yes, I understand. Very well."

After he got off the phone, he took his spot back beside Ichigo, who was lying on his side, and pressed his forehead softly against his chest. It actually looked as if he was moping slightly, which was something he never did. Though Ichigo could be dense at times, he wasn't completely oblivious.

Sneering slightly, Ichigo asked, "I guess I'm flying solo tonight?" Though he tried to not come off as bitter, he was sure it showed through in his tone.

"Yes," Byakuya huffed once more. "The end of the semester is coming up soon and the literature department has to gather and form the final exams for the students to take. It's for the purpose of keeping all of the tests at a similar level of difficulty and secures that the questions are the best for analyzing a student's overall knowledge. All departments have to do it. Our meeting was supposed to be next week, but there's been a rather impromptu schedule change." Giving the man a genuine look of apology, he avowed, "If it was within my ability, I would much rather deal with the stupidity of the teachers at Milly's school than the ones at mine. I know this was important, I'm sor-"

"You don't have any reason to be sorry," Ichigo said with a fraudulent smile, one he was sure looked awkward because how much it contrasted his actual feelings. In actuality, Ichigo felt an unexplainable ball of disappointment and frustration sitting in the pit of his stomach.

"Duty calls, I get it." What was he going to say? 'I know you're supporting our family, but poor me?' More so, he felt completely irrational. Why was he feeling this way? Why couldn't he get a grasp on this? If this was before, he'd probably be upset, but not in the hit by a truck way, because it seemed really insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Before, he'd most likely not even try to hide that he was pissed. He'd make a few half-hearted impassioned comments about how stupid Byakuya's work was, and that would be the end of his frustration towards the matter. Their tryst would have continued with nothing but a brief interruption and a slight ting of disappointment.

In Ichigo's defense, he had a moxie of new and convoluted emotions stewing inside of him, none of which he was allowing to surface. It was starting to bubble over in the form of inner dread and disappointment, an irrational mood swing. Despite any concessions, he felt selfish for even thinking this way and resorted back to clumsily concealing his true feelings. He was sure that there were cracks forming in the mask he donned, and it was only a matter of time before the whole thing crumbled off.

The worst of Ichigo's degradation came from the feeling of his desire being stolen from him. As if to add insult to injury, his new shadowy companion had extinguished all of that pyre till not a single ember was left. He didn't grasp how that could be in the realm of possibility when just moments ago, if they weren't wearing their rings, they could have asphyxiated a whole town with their inexhaustible inferno of spiritual energy. Yet, somehow, that blinding sphere of combusting rapid oxidation had been put out. No, not put out, _stolen_ , poached from his very being. Ichigo was able to contain Hichigo. A mask-wielding, Soul Reaper-Hollow hybrid look alike was less invasive than this squatter. It didn't even have a body or any manifestation at all, yet it still seemed to look more and more like Ichigo every day. It seemed more like him every passing moment, and truthfully, he was losing sight of the differences.

It wasn't fair, and he it hated it. There were no words to articulate his dissidence. More than anything, he wished this was some physical animate presence so he could rip it apart with his Zanpakutou, erode the chain connecting them. He wanted the feeling of Byakuya's skin. He wanted to love him the way he deserved, every single moment of the day, and to be able to express that love in every sense of the word. A man that beautiful deserved to be touched, and Ichigo wanted nothing more than to touch him. He wanted it fervently. Though that's what he didn't understand, how could he want something and not at the same time? How could he ache and tremble for those quenching lips and the miles of porcelain skin stretched like a canvas over his amorous limbs, and somehow not find the motivation to reach out and take them? Most quintessential was, how could he look the man he loved in the eyes and tell him he didn't want to put his hands on him for reasons unknown, and that this probably wouldn't be the last time?

Easy - he couldn't. Ichigo started to move to the edge of the bed, wearing a rather blank face as he did so. Before he could stand up, Byakuya sat up in suit, and from behind, he placed soft kissed on Ichigo's neck, making the man grit his teeth slightly as he awkwardly rolled his neck.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing was rekindled from those sweet sakura hued lips. They felt so warm and comforting, but that just morphed into ugly guilt. He wished those lips could be a defibrillator to his deadened desire, but alas, nothing could break the skin.

"You don't need to pretend like it doesn't bothers you," Byakuya asserted knowingly between his leisurely planting of kisses.

Ichigo cringed slightly, the rain from his inner world wanting to seep out of him. He bit it back and swallowed it. As he spoke, his voice was gritty and out of place, one Byakuya took notice off. "I mean, yeah, it kind of sucks, but it's no big deal. I get it."

As he went to push himself off the bed, he felt the soft grasp of Byakuya's fingers on his wrist. He could practically feel them imploring him, the nerve-painted fingertips pulsating, almost searching, wanting him to stay. Those fingers were starting to taunt him too now. Wantonly, Byakuya pondered, "We're not done here, are we?"

"Uhh," Ichigo searched desperately for words, the gentle baritone of his husband making it so much harder. He voice was like salt-covered glass stabbing into his wounds because he found that voice to be the most beautiful voice he ever heard. That was the voice of his Byakuya, his captivating, prideful, sardonic, gentle, sometimes silly, stuffed-animal sewing father to his daughter. Byakuya was the other half to his moiety, his biggest fan and his greatest inspiration. He was the voice who he wanted to hear every day for his whole life, the voice he wanted to say 'no, were not done here' to, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. "Well, I figured, ya' got that meeting so I'd give you some time to get ready and shower and everything."

"Ichigo, I-" Byakuya was about to tell Ichigo that he was misunderstanding, that he had plenty of time before he had to leave for work, but he cut himself off. The man was far shrewder than his husband was giving him credit for. He knew a poorly constructed lie when he heard it, especially from the mouth of Ichigo. Did he think he didn't notice, that he didn't know his own husband? Did he believe he hadn't seen the unused paint materials, the increasingly vacant stares, or the inflection of stifled tears? Why did Ichigo think he'd been so adamant lately to constantly reiterate that he didn't have to hide anything from him, that he could come to him with everything and anything? He wasn't sure _what_ exactly was the essence of Ichigo's pain, but he felt it, he felt it ringing inside of him. It was obvious to him the real reason Ichigo was ending their tryst: he'd lost his desire.

Trying to save his lover some pride, he narrowed his eyes and put on a more austere expression. Standing up, he went to retrieve his clothes and affirmed, "Yes, you're probably right."

As Byakuya gathered his clothes and Ichigo dressed, there was a haunting silence that made the mere feet of separation stretch on for miles. A tension so dense filled the atmosphere that Ichigo could feel it sticking to his skin, sullying his soul. There was a wedge, one Ichigo had placed between them. He knew it and couldn't stand it, but still, he couldn't and wouldn't change it. He wouldn't fill that silence with the explanation Byakuya deserved.

They were a house on fire, but the rain was starting to pour.

 **xXx**

 **Jazzybella: I'm glade you're liking it. Ikkaku and Yumichika are amazing characters and a lot of people don't give them enough credit. I hope I can keep doing well by them.**

 **Siwon611: That mean's so much because I really put a lot of effort into the words I pick. Your comment made me smile! :)**

 **.havens: Thanks girly, I hope you keep with this story.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Holy crap guys. I didn't realize it had been almost two months since my last update for this story. I really thought it had only been about a month. Is it me or is time going by way quicker than before? Anyway, I feel bad that I kept people waiting so long on this update. I'lll try not to do that again.**

 **Remember this story switches off from chapter to chapter.(From Ichigo and Byakuya and back to the on goings of the SS) So this picks back up where chapter 2 left off. I know that's been forever ago. lol I usually always respond to comments at the bottom, but for the sake off moving quickly, Im going to skip that for this update and just continue it with the next chapter.**

 **Good Vibes ~ Ashes.**

 **xXx**

 _Sycophants on velvet sofas._

 _Lavish mansions, vintage wine._

 _I am so much more than royal._

 _Snatch your chain and mace your eyes._

 _If it feels good, tastes good,_

 _it must be mine_

 _-P!ATD_

 **xXx**

 **To The Victor Goes The Spoils**

Ikkaku hadn't worked out the fine print of his plan, but despite never being especially detail-orientated when it came to battle strategy, he knew his efforts would need to be viewed from a new perspective, for the entail yielded was much too imperative for him to go about this in his usual audacious and injudicious fashion. It didn't help that Ikkaku knew such a scanty amount about this apparently mysterious and merciless maniac. Still, gossip around the Seireitei was easier to pick up than the common cold; you just had to know the right place to put your ears. Considering Naomi frequented the pubs of the Seireitei and Ikkaku was also a hardened habitué, he knew some of his drinking buddies had to have seen the woman in action.

There were only three bars within the confines of the Seireitei. One which Ikkaku rarely found himself at laid right outside the sixth division's barracks and seemed the most logical choice to find the woman, but first, he had a little reconnaissance to do.

With only two hours left before the clock struck midnight and the curfew was enacted, Ikkaku didn't have a moment to waste. The man flashed through the umbrage given off by the foliage until he found himself in his barracks. Expeditiously, Ikkaku shut his door and prepared quickly. Removing the cloak, he folded it as best as he could, compacting the fabric into a bunched-up square. Briefly, he thought at how much better Yumichika would be a something like this, but quickly removed the thought from his head. There was no time for sentiments, nor was there time to be hung up on stage one of his plan. If he couldn't get past something as trivial as folding, how could he deal with the likes of Kuchiki Naomi?

After he placed the folded cloak within his haori, the garment secretly appressed between his chest and a fold in his fabric, Ikkaku delicately set down the poison-varnished needle and moved to his drawer. Removing an obi, he placed the needle on the cloth and coiled it gently. Honestly, he was more nervous about fucking up right off the bat by mistakenly pricking himself. He wasn't exactly known for his graceful and wary hands. Once the needle was safely relocated into the now pouch-like sash, Ikkaku placed it alongside the cloak, only to smooth out the tighter fabric that slung around his chest, trying to veil that he was in fact veiling something.

Almost instinctually, he moved to stage two without missing a beat, all the while building his's self-assurance along the way. Surely this was a new territory, but so what? A plucky Ikkaku truly believed that, as long as he said he could do it, it would be a triumphant mission, for, to Ikkaku, there _was_ no failing. He went into every altercation with the chutzpah of a seasoned warrior, donning a brass backbone that smugly carried him through battle, never with the slightest hindrance of incertitude. However, unlike the war-torn days of his antecedent, more than his own fortitude as a warrior was in jeopardy. Before, if he'd failed, there would be an honor and an acceptance, because he truly felt as if this came as a result of his own shortcomings, but with this quest, such a great deal could ride on the information netted. The knowledge within Naomi's kooky brain could be their biggest, most savage missile within their arsenal. It was difficult to not let the pressure erode away that tough vertebrae, so he pushed the implications of what failing meant to the back of his brain as he strutted confidently through his barracks.

Luck seemed to be on his side tonight, as he didn't even need to go looking for the comrade he was in search of. In a common area sat their sixth seat. Yes, if intelligence and strategy wouldn't carry him through this, he was always toting double aces in his back pocket. He was the luckiest bastard in the world.

The thought made his fingers brush over a talisman that ornamented his protruding collar bones: a feather, one of Yumichika's feathers that his lover had riveted to a chain and given to him, that rested within the dip of his chest. When Yumichika had presented him with the necklace, he'd said it was a good luck charm, causing Ikkaku to roll his eyes hard, but nevertheless accept the gift. As Yumichika had fastened the chain around his brawny neck, his soft honeyed voice resonated in Ikkaku's ear when he'd said 'perhaps all of that good luck comes from us being together, you were a bumbling fool before we met. This way, I'll always bring you luck, since I can't be by your side all the time now.' Though he'd veiled it well, the idea reverberated within his thoracic cavity, for it was true, the closer he and Yumichika became, the more his mere existence seemed like an actual life worth living, the more he thrived, and the luckier he became. Such a small gesture spoke volumes, for even while in different divisions, they were never really apart.

"Yo, Haruki-san," Ikkaku greeted, his usual maniacal grin in place. Being the ornery combination of pugnacious and blunt, some may assume Ikkaku to be ostracized and detested. Within certain circles of the Gotei, he was sure that this held true, not that he cared one way or the other, but within his division, it was quite the opposite. The third seat was mister popular throughout the squad and held a large amount of reverence, not to mention fear, which he rather enjoyed, for within their division, his attributes, which were considered an acquired taste by many within the Gotei, were the _preferred_ taste. Yes. One could call the eleventh division thugs, thugs amongst men, but these thugs were loyal and with heart above all.

With an air of jocundity, the sixth seat raised his head and greeted, "Oi, Ikkaku-san, I figured you'd be halfway through depleting the sake supply at the Ō kappu by now."

"Yeah, and I'd figured you'd be right behind me handling the other half." He grinned, splaying himself out on an adjacent seat. Of course, Ikkaku knew that wasn't true. Haruki-san was usually the victim of all the paperwork Kenpachi refused. After it piled up to a point where neglect was no longer an option, the captain would usually find Haruki and drop a pile big enough to canvas every wall of the division in the poor kid's lap, only to add a 'have fun' before bulldozing away. Ikkaku wasn't sure why Kenpachi always picked Haruki. He knew the captain liked him well enough, for he had made him the sixth seat. It was either one of Kenpachi's twisted hobbies or possibly because Haruki was one of the brainier guys in the division, and he trusted him to get it right.

With a harmless roll of the eyes, the man gestured to the sky scraper's worth of paperwork situated on the table and said, "Not tonight. Tonight, I'm on fodder duty."

"Ahh," Ikkaku said with a flippant wave of the hand, "you're not of little significance." He looked closer to the pile as if it was the first time he'd seen it, narrowing his eyes and flipping through the stack carelessly. "If it weren't for you, I'd probably have to do this shit." It was obvious that Captain hadn't done paperwork in months, if not longer. Poor kid, Zaraki could at least stick the guy with his workload more often, so when he did, it wouldn't take the sixth seat days to complete.

Haruki swatted the man's hand away, saying something about how everything was organized and how he'd beat Ikkaku to a bloody pulp if he fucked it up, or die trying more likely.

He slinked his arms against the back of the couch he was perched upon. "I'm about to head to Horoyoi Tsubaki, and I'd figure I'd ask if ya' wanted to join, but, uh," he smirked slightly, giving a cursory glance at the papers plastering the entirety of the work table, "I guess you have funnier plans for tonight, huh?"

Letting his eye vacillate between Ikkaku and his papers, he spoke while writing. With a throaty chuckle, he queried, "Since when do you drink at Horoyoi Tsubaki? I thought most of the sixth division pissed you off." Ikkaku knew Haruki to not be a fan of most sixth division members, however, ironically so, he dated a girl that was in that squad. He would often frequent the pub with her, begrudgingly so.

"Renji wants to swing by and see some of his old comrades," he fibbed smoothly and without a snitch. "Ya' know how sentimental that dope is, so I figured why not. A drinks a drink anyway."

"Yeah, but bad company's still bad company," the other man countered with a grin. It wasn't as if the sixth and eleventh divisions abhorred each other, more so, the two groups were from different worlds. To the eleventh division, most of the members were high and mighty wet blankets with unwarranted superiority complexes.

"That's where the alcohol helps," Ikkaku quipped. "But I also heard some pretty crazy rumors about the new sixth division captain, and I didn't want to miss the opportunity to validate em' for myself."

Haruki netted his brows at the man, making Ikkaku wonder if he should have transitioned into the topic so quickly. He didn't have a lot of time, but he didn't want his intentions to be questioned either. Perhaps it did seem slightly odd for Ikkaku to give a rat's ass about the new sixth division captain. As if his brain automatically knew this was the right thing to say, he blurted out, "I heard she's more powerful than Kuchiki-san."

The bemused look on Haruki's face turned into a sly grin as he cocked an eyebrow. "Ikkaku-san, are you looking to fight with Kuchiki Naomi-taichou?"

Grinning, he confirmed in so many words, "I'll see how the night goes, but could you blame me? That's a challenge too good to give up."

"I'd usually say fighting a captain is crazy, even for you," he smirked, "but in this case, you might actually get what you want."

"Whatch'a mean?" Ikkaku egged on.

"That lunatic's always challenging someone to a fight. Always a seated officer, male or female, and always in Zanjutsu, because that's the only thing most officers could hope to beat a captain at. It is possible to be less powerful than a captain, but more proficient at sword fighting techniques." He yawned, never stopping the swift movements of his pen. "Ya' might get a little bit more than you bargained for though." Ikkaku's silence prompted him to fill it with an explanation. "You're fighting for more than bragging rights. Everyone she challenges, there's always something on the line." The man's face twisted slightly as his demeanor became tensed, uncomfortable even. That was not a common thing for a division eleven man to be.

"What is it?" Ikkaku asked.

Swallowing down any of his bashfulness, he looked Ikkaku dead on and replied, "Your body, for a night that is. If you lose, you have to let her bed you."

"People fucking agree to this?!" Ikkaku boomed incredulously.

"Most, not that everyone likes the stakes. I think us seated officers are predisposed to being extremely prideful. It's hard to turn down a chance to beat a captain, especially the way she goads you into it." The man erected an eye brow at him, stopping his writing all together. "I've seen a lot of people fight her, and never have I seen anyone win. Honestly, I think she does it because she's sick in the head. Something about her, it's like she wants to add insult to injury, like it's more about humiliating you than the sex part." The man noticeably shuddered. "I have Kenpachi-san as a captain, but he's the fucking picture of complete mental health next to that maniac."

And if that didn't say something, nothing else would, because Kenpachi was a lot of things, but sane was not an adjective usually attached to him.

"I still can't believe that some people actually _try_ to lose to her," the man grimaced.

Ikkaku couldn't help but grimace in suit. Who would want to sacrifice their pride to sleep with this broad? "Really?"

Shaking his head and gaping his eyes slightly, he said, "Oh yeah. I guess I get it to a certain extent, she's a really beautiful woman. If I was a different type of guy and wasn't afraid she'd bite my fucking manhood off, I might be inclined to myself." Smirking at the man, he said, "I'm sure you've heard the saying, Ikkaku, crazy in the head, crazy in bed. Still it's not worth it."

After a brief moment, Ikkaku asked, "She's never lost to anyone, huh?"

Smirking playfully, the sixth said, "Well, not until tonight."

' _This is exactly what I need. Luck really is on my side._ ' Boastful, Ikkaku jumped up, slapped Haruki on the shoulder, and exclaimed, "Yeah, her luck's definitely running out tonight. Thanks for the information, Haruki-san."

 **xXx**

When Ikkaku decided to try and infiltrate the Kuchiki mansion for information, he knew there were only so many available options. First and foremost, even with his cloak, it'd be near to impossible to get into the kido-sealed gate without someone who resided within the estate, namely Kuchiki Naomi. There were only so many ways a man could get an invitation back to a woman's place, and none of them were favorable for Ikkaku. Not only were his acting skills pretty inept and the idea of having to come on to Naomi, or anyone who wasn't Yumichika for that matter, made his skin crawl, but he was a complete greenhorn of a pick-up artist. He did spend his time around a group of burly men every day, and the only girl he had experience talking to was three feet tall and liked to hoard candy.

However, with the newly obtained entail, Ikkaku's path into that manor was clearly marked, almost suspiciously so. It was almost as if the world had thrown him a freebie on this one. The only thing he'd have to do was fight Naomi, fight Naomi and _lose_ , that is. The losing itself would probably be the most challenging step in this espionage, for a prideful warrior like Ikkaku losing purposefully was like the disfigurement of his honor. Nevertheless, Ikkaku hadn't gotten this far to let something as feckless as his own pompous pride get in the way. What would such pride mean if all of his comrades were executed, if Yumichika was hurt, or if he just allowed the hierarchy of the Gotei to walk atop of them like they were infinitesimal bugs beneath their feet? That's where his true pride and honor lived, in the rebel yell of his compatriots, all refusing to be the collateral damage of Central's heinous totalitarianism. He could sacrifice some of his arrogance for such an unparalleled sense of vindication.

In the barracks' environs lay Horoyoi Tsubaki, a pub founded and maintained by the sixth division long before Byakuya was head of the clan. It was created under the stipulation that it would be all-inclusive, on the grounds that other squads might become embittered, feeling as if the sixth obtained favoritism because of their noble standing. Still, for non-division members, the welcoming comity often gave out dirty stares and venomous words. Ikkaku didn't care though. He had no fucks to give when it came to the opinions of self-righteous nobodies.

So when he entered the establishment, there were eyes all on him, but he was none the wiser. As soon as he entered the threshold, he saw Naomi seated at the bar, sipping her sake tentatively. She seemed somber and elegant, her gloved hands wrapped around her drinking cup in such a dainty fashion. Like Byakuya, she held, what appeared to be, a reserved attraction. Her feminine yet piercing features weren't exaggerated by makeup and were intense in their utter rawness. Her long dark strands were as luxurious yet firm as the web of a black widow, falling all the way down her back, freed of a hair piece. She had the same face as Byakuya, the same heavy coal orbs set beneath pristinely arched eyebrows, the same straight pointed nose of aristocracy, and naturally pouty lips that held themselves in a serious manner, only with a much softer edge to it all. Kuchikis seemed to hold this stony, forlorn beauty.

Ikkaku thought it best to approach the woman in a bellicose fashion, puffed up and full of cavalier air. Kuchikis' compositional makeup was based off pride, making it easy to goad them into a fight if you knew exactly which buttons to push. With little heed, Ikkaku grandstanded over to the captain and stopped right behind her.

"Captain Kuchiki," Ikkaku said, all of his fight-ready energy behind his tonality.

Her unimpressed eyes gave a cursory glance over her shoulder. "The only thing I hate more than men who interrupt my personal time are arrogant men who don't know their place. You seem to be drawing the short stick on both peeves."

"I'm looking for a fight and I won't be denied." He smirked wryly, "I'd be apprehensive too. Beating me is a snowball's shot in hell, but who knows, you may get lucky."

Within a blink of an eye, maybe less, Ikkaku found his chin met by the cold point of steel and his knees bracing against the floor board. All of that reserved instability flipped to a latent maniacal grin in an instant, and Ikkaku returned the delirious gesture graciously. Only a raving man would be smiling so confidently while at the sharp end of a blade, but that is why they'd picked Ikkaku, because he was his own special brand of crazy.

"And do you know of the award I'm to collect if you lose?" The woman's jack-o-lantern grin deepened the chasm of her ivory face as she pressed the steel deeper into the ruddy skin of Ikkaku's upturned chin.

"Yeah, I heard of your trophy. What of it? That's got nothin' to do with me."

Naomi snickered with great aplomb, shaking her head as if she was belittling a child. "Whether you're so imbecilic that you believe you could beat me or you're just a glutton for pain." Leaning in closer, her blade breaking the skin and staining itself with the crimson iron of Ikkaku's blood, she whispered, "Are you sexually aroused by humiliation, Madarame-san?"

His breath caught slightly at the sound of his name hitting his eardrum, only more blood curdling by the chilling sharpness of the woman's words and the tepidness of her breath so close to his neck. Recovering quickly, he smirked and spoke with an equal amount of brassiness. "You forgot one more option," Ikkaku declared, gripping his zanpakutou tightly. With swift and nimble movements, he was able to knock the woman's sword from his neck and stand back up. "I'm just stronger than you."

Naomi stood back impassively, appraising the man with a more muted amusement. Her eyes ran up and down his physique as if she was deciding if he was a worthy opponent. Sheathing her sword, the woman gave a flippant throw of the hand. "I'll pass. I'm not much in the mood to degrade one as yourself tonight. I did come out for the sole purpose of relaxing, after all."

With all the affronted irascibility he could manage, Ikkaku went to speak, but was cut off by the barkeep. A tiny mousey man, one of the many fodder that made of the sixth division, spoke up with all the bravado he could muster.

"Captain Kuchiki-san," the man addressed, pushing up his glasses. "Could you please not spar in here tonight? It'll cause a lot of damage that the division will have to fix with our personal resources."

"Oh Saito-san, sweet, foolish Saito," the woman patronized, putting on what passed as a sympathetic grin. "Of course I'll idle my hands, and just for you, since you're obviously the owner of this bar."

The man shied away slightly, his knees quivering. "No, I mean, of course I didn't mean tha-"

"No, no, you're right, Saito. While you're at it, perhaps I should idle my hands of the division also, and let you run the show, since you seem to know what's best."

The man just shook his head no, his mouth pitifully contouring as he tried to think of something to say.

Ikkaku couldn't help but feel bad for the guy. With spiritual pressure like his, even with all the practice in the world, he'd be lucky to achieve shikai. Still, even Ikkaku knew without fodder like the barkeep, the Gotei wouldn't have a leg to stand on. They're called foot soldiers for a reason and they certainly shouldn't be treated insignificantly. Just having the gall to stand up to Naomi showed he was worthy of his position. Still, Ikkaku didn't really have time to worry about the mistreatment, and more so, was trying to figure out a way to use this all to his advantage.

Of course, he didn't want to let the spar go, but if he pushed Naomi too far, who knew how she'd react. There was always plan A: rubbing elbows, comparing their crazy with each other in hopes she'd find some kind of kinship with him. Yet, if he was going to take that course of action, he'd need to do something drastic.

In almost one swift movement, Naomi stood and grabbed at the man's uniform, hoisting him over the bar. "Do you see this, Saito-san?" she asked humorously, staring into the frantic brown orbs of the frightened barkeep. "Do you see how I have you so helplessly in my grasp, how I hold your life in my hand, and there's nothing you can do about it? That's power. That's what separates the bugs from the humans, the humans from the gods. Even a god of death yourself is still controlled by the more powerful." Pursing her lips, she snickered dangerously. "That's why _I_ control this bar and our division, and you do not, and I do whatever I want with _my_ property."

Naomi was about the drop the poor man and let him scatter when, to her surprise, his neck was grasped and his face was sent flying towards the bar. The man's head practically bounced like a basketball, and in all the times Ikkaku had fought a man without cause, for the first time, he felt guilty.

But guilt had no place here right now.

Ikkaku had jumped over the bar and added injury to the man's insult, smashing his head into the bar. He was still conscious when he fell back onto the floor and looked up hazily at the brazen mound of muscles looking down at him. He used the sleeve of his uniform to cover a giant gash while pushing himself back with his feet, grappling for his sword in fear.

Ikkaku smiled maniacally. "Ya' heard the lady, ya' weakling. Why don't you run along and let the grown-ups talk." Picking up a dish rag that lied across the bar, he threw it in the man's face. "Go clean yourself up, and don't talk back to superiors until your strong enough to back up ya' words."

The man was ashen from a mix of blood loss and shock, yet he somehow found it in him to nod and scurry away in his paralyzed state. At this point, Naomi was actually howling with laughter. Obviously, she enjoyed Ikkaku's show.

Picking up a sake bottle, Ikkaku refilled her cup. "And a drink for ya', m'lady." He smirked deviously.

The raven-haired maniac was smiling pleasantly, but her eyes held a tinge of skepticism. Perching her chin on her overlapping hands, she leaned her elbows on the bar only to ask, "You were just trying to fight me. Now you want to be my drinking partner?"

"Oh, I still want to fight ya'." Leaning in slightly, Ikkaku tried to mimic the woman's body language. "I'm just in no hurry. Besides," he cocked an eyebrow, "some of the funniest people I know are the best sparring partners I've had."

"Yes." She sipped her sake and gave a refreshed sigh. "But why are you still hanging around me?"

Forgoing a cup and drinking straight from the sake bottle, Ikkaku shrugged his shoulders. "Ya' seem fun, powerful." Tapping the bar with his knuckles, he added, "My type of crazy. Everyone around here is so concerned about being civil and rule bound, but," leaning in closer, and with a tone Ikkaku believed to be heady, he said, "lone wolves like us, we know things like that aren't important."

Wryly pursing her lips against the glass brim of her cup, she asserted, "Shows how much you know about me, Lieutenant. A lone wolf is a pack animal that's been left or exiled from its group, then wonders alone for the rest of its days. I, however, am a snake. I was born of a group, but a group that chooses to exist in solitude. Snakes, they hunt, travel, and live very isolated lives from birth. Snakes have never know the attachment of others."

"If ya' ask me, that means we're the same, we just got there from different paths."

Naomi grinned and crinkled her nose slightly. "Well I didn't ask you, but," she eyed the man cursorily, "you are an interesting man."

Ikkaku was finding this acting thing less of a challenge than he'd imagined. Once he justified the means, it was easy to slip into the role and sprinkle his words with seemingly flirtatious intent. The manipulating, the pretending to be someone else, it was actually sort of fun in a weird way. He'd never had to beat an opponent without physical means, and was now realizing that it could be just as satisfying.

"Not really." He studied the woman's body language, taking note of how she arched her shoulders in closer, closing the distance between them. He followed her lead, closing the distance even more. "I think I'm just a straight forward normal guy." He smirked, his lips particularly close to the pronouncedly curved cheekbones of the woman. "All of those whiny do-gooders, the ones who take their power for granted, they're the weird ones."

Bowing her head slightly, the captain batted her lashes and snickered towards her drink in a knowing manner. "Am I to assume you're trying to pick me up, Madarame-san? That is certainly tactless of you."

"Something tells me you don't care all too much about tact. I know I sure as hell don't," Ikkaku assured.

To his bewilderment, the woman pushed her nose in between the crook of his neck and inhaled deeply, making him straighten up slightly. "Uh, whatcha' doing?" He tried not to sound as put-off as he was, resulting in an out of place chuckle.

She sniffed at the man a couple of more times before exiting the personal space just enough to throw him an impish glare, only intensified by the mischievous smirk that accompanied it. "I was smelling your fear."

Huffing humorously, Ikkaku challenged, "You may need to come closer if you're trying to find any of that."

Luckily, she didn't take the proposition up. Sitting back in her chair, she picked up her glass and tapped it thoughtfully. "A man who tries to take me back to the Kuchiki manor must be a brave man indeed."

"I wasn't really thinking the manor. I'm ballsy, but I ain't stupid. Those elders would have me arrested if they caught me with you."

Naomi rolled her eyes before downing the rest of her sake in one gulp. Resting a cheek against her tightened fist, she explained, "The elders reside in the western wing and know better than to bother me."

' _Bingo.'_ Ikkaku thought. That would make things a lot easier for him once he got into the manor. "How about you and I clear out the bar until this damn curfew comes around?" he offered.

Picking up the sake bottle and refilling her glass, Naomi gave a snooty flip of her hair before pressing her lips to her cup. "I don't mind such frivolous rules. You're drinking with royalty, Madarame-san. Be humbled."

Once again drinking from the bottle, he let the sake flow from the neck and quench his thirst while also cementing his nerves. "I can see it has its perks."

 **xXx**

Once inside the grandiose living area of the Kuchiki estate, it took no time at all to spike the woman's drink. Ikkaku prepared her cup of sake and stirred it with the needle before handing it off to her. Within a couple of minutes, the woman had passed out on a leather couch. Hopefully, she'd assume she'd fallen to sleep in a drunken stupor and credit the painful effects of Salim's poisons to a gnarly hangover.

With little time to waste, Ikkaku removed his cloak and draped it around himself before moving briskly through the labyrinth of an estate. He veiled his pressure along with his appearance, trying to move silently yet swiftly. It had occurred to him that the rest of his plan truly was up to luck, for once he got to the west wing, he had to locate something that would give him some intel on the Kuchiki's motives. He'd been curiously lucky as it was, so perhaps he'd keep that winning streak rolling. Certainly, finding the west wing in itself was a triumph, but five minutes later, he stood somewhat hesitantly at the cavity of the elder's wing of residence.

A lengthy hallway was lined by massive wooden pillars and paper sliding doors, each depicting a panoramic design. The high ceilings were divided into geometrical squares, each also illustrating a scenic view. From the ceiling hung sumptuous chandeliers, each singular crystal reflecting a prismatic shine across the golden rectangle tiles. Alone, these lofty living quarters were much larger than the modest barracks of the eleventh division. Ikkaku was at a loss of where to start searching.

He had little time for deliberation. Therefore, his body started moving in hopes his brain would catch up at some point. Walking up the hallway, Ikkaku heard one of the sliding doors open and he instinctively moved behind a pillar, despite his invisibility.

The two men who exited were recognized immediately as Yoshida, the clan elder, and his right hand, Aktyama. They both stood outside of the doorway momentarily, each garbed in flashy noble attire, seemingly in the middle of a conversation started inside of the room.

"I don't see why you're complaining, Aktyama-san. You're the one who suggested her in the first place," Yoshida reminded with a flippant wave of the hand.

"Well what other options did we have at that point, especially since only full-blooded Kuchikis are allowed to head the house? This is because of the decisions _you've_ made, Yoshida-san," the elder blamed, throwing the man a disappointed glare.

"It's of no matter," the held elder deflected, beginning to walk forward. "If the prophecy is correct, she won't be a problem for long."

' _Prophecy?'_ Ikkaku introspective, following the men silently, switching from pillar to pillar while keeping a distance.

"You've gone complete senile, Yoshida-san. Your whole purpose is to stop this prophecy, yet you believe in it so earnestly. You're even banking on it to handle the Naomi situation."

Sighing irately at the insubordination that he'd became habituated to from his fellow elder, Yoshida recanted, "No. I'm merely suggesting that if you know the future, you can change it. I never wanted Byakuya out of power, he's much more manageable than Naomi, or for the faith of the prophecy to befall him." Now stopping in front of a sliding door, he continued to explain, "However, if such a fate fell on the head of our clan, Byakuya wouldn't reap the consequences, and if it doesn't happen, even better." Tickling his beard with his wrinkled digits, Yoshida said, "We'll stronghold him back into this position and under our thumb, then we'll deal with Naomi appropriately." Grimacing in revulsion, "Put that woman back in a cage where she belongs."

"If such a fate did befall our head, we'd have much bigger problems than who will lead the clan. For instance, the rest of the prophesy becoming reality. You say you can change the future if you know it, but Yoshida-san," Aktyama mused, "you can also inadvertently cause it. Besides, after all this, do you really believe Kuchiki-san would come back to a household run by the same elders that drove him off?"

Yoshida's translucent sagging skin creaked into a menacing grin, sending chills down his counterpart. "You'd be surprised how the lives of one's loved ones acts as a great impetus." Giving an aslant glare towards the sliding door, Yoshida suggested, "It's well enough time to retire for the evening, wouldn't you agree?"

Looking on in disgusting disbelief, Aktyama shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as he moved to walk across the hall. "Yeah, I don't want to sit and listen to this anymore."

At the sound of two shutting doors, Ikkaku sat thoughtfully for a transitory moment, ruminating over the information he'd just attained and what exactly it meant.

It was the patter of footsteps that gained his attention, making him look up from behind the pillar where he was situated. Naomi Kuchiki was practically slithering down the hall like a snake, quickly yet with a carnivorous grace. Just as she had in the bar, she was sniffing heavily. With an upturned nose, she stopped in the middle of the hall, a mere two yards away from Ikkaku. She sniffed again, each time turning her head in a different direction, her neck seemingly elastic from the way it would twist and turn sharply and with little issue.

Ikkaku wanted to flash step away, but he was certain any movement would give him away instantly. Settling in deeper to his spot, he seized his breaths. The only noises were Naomi's deep inhales and the coursing of blood pumping through his veins.

She took a few more steps until she stood parallel with Ikkaku. A forbidding grin smeared her face. That was the grin of victory. Ikkaku knew, he was fucked.

Withdrawing her sword, Naomi slung her blade into the wooden pillar. A swift wind overcame Ikkaku's scalp as the blade nearly grazed his head where he was crouched. Standing in front of the pillar, Naomi removed her sword and said, "Would you please stand for me, dear?"

For a moment, Ikkaku considered flashing past her in a last ditch attempt to make a break for it, but the possibility of that working out in his favor didn't seem like odds he liked. However, he couldn't exactly talk his way out of this one, so flashing seemed to be his best odds.

His decision was made for him when the steel tip on Naomi's blade slipped under the hood of the cloak and removed it in one nimble flick of the wrist. "I asked so politely. Please don't make repeat myself." She grinned down at the intense orbs.

In that moment, Ikkaku realized he had been a fool, utterly senseless. The whole night everything had been so simple, almost suspiciously so, but he had just chalked it up to his good luck. He should have known better, but now here he was, frantically filing through his head for a way out of this that didn't involve murdering Naomi Kuchiki and signing his death warrant as a result. Certainly, Ikkaku wasn't dumb, but under this type of pressure, he was like a child with their hand caught in a cookie jar. What kind of excuse could he give? What could he do to get out of this? There had to be something, something he could do or say, something that Naomi wanted. Everyone had a price.

He stood to his feet, squaring his shoulders and jaw in a prideful manner. If he was going down, he'd go down with dignity, standing on his own two legs. The serpentine grin that split her face was so comically sadistic in its nature, showing the instability of the person who donned it.

Having no words of evasion, Ikkaku clenched his teeth in preparation. "Well?" he asked, his tone filled with defiance. Naomi just kept that twisted turn of the lips.

"You're probably wondering why I'm not passed out right now?" Naomi finally spoke up, standing dangerously close to Ikkaku's personal space.

"Not really." That was the least of Ikkaku's concerns right now.

"I'll give you this, you did well at first. You almost had me fooled, but you made one big mistake." At the twitch of Ikkaku's eye brow, she explained, "You weren't patient, my dear. Every predator knows the importance of stalking their prey, taking their time." A pointed fingernail met the tender and pulsating skin under Ikkaku's jaw, running it softly down the flesh. Ikkaku practically growled at the contact, but made no attempt to move. "Urgency is the downfall to all overconfident men." Scratching the tip past his adam's apple and flicking it off the tip of Ikkaku's pronounced chin, she withdrew her hand only to brush the talisman settled within the dip of the man's chest. "I know about your lover," she said coyly, brushing the tip of her nail across the silky material. "Hm, what's his name? That feather boy. Yumichika, is it?"

Just as she intended, that got the man's attention. It was obvious by the way his eyes filled with a perplexed frustration and his lip twitched in chagrin, his whole demeanor seething, stifled by his want to not make any rash decisions. Before he could say anything, she began again, "I make it my business to know things, if you're wondering how I knew. You know, if you had've just walked away after I turned down your fight and came back to retry latter, I might have bought it. You're known for being very fight-ready, so that makes sense. However," she cocked an eyebrow that taunted Ikkaku with its amusement. "Trying to bed me? Pfh- that couldn't have been more suspicious. You, my dear, moved your pieces before you could even see the whole battlefield."

Ikkaku was not in the mood for her explanation or mind games. He knew she wanted something, or else he'd already be in the custody of Central and half way to his death. It was time for her to stop dancing around the issue and just come out with it. "So what? What do you want?"

A jovial look flooded the woman's coal orbs, a look that would only enhance her beauty if not overshadowed by a mask of lunacy. "Ah, so you're not that stupid. What I want is simple, dear, and if you give it to me, you can walk out of here as if this never happened. All I want to know is what information you yielded in your little spy mission. The elders have been keeping things from me and I've been trying to figure out just what that is." Bopping the man on the nose, she gleamed. "What a good pet you are, coming around and doing all the work for me."

Pushing past his vexation and the thumping of his nerves screaming for impulsive action, Ikkaku sincerely thought of her proposition in the most logical manner he could. On one hand, Naomi wasn't their enemy, not really. Would passing the information on to her really be so daft or dangerous? Did the idiom 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' hold ground here? Yet, just as likely, she could simply be playing him, readying her sword to pierce him the moment the confession penetrated his mouth. More so, who knew what she'd do with the information, because he certainly couldn't trust this snake of a woman. He flipped the possibilities over and over in his head, trying to think about what someone more experience would do in this position, though those thoughts would do him no good. It was him standing in front of Naomi's blade and bloodthirsty sneer. It was his choice to make, and that meant prioritizing exactly what was important to him. He needed to get that information to Juushiro and the others, and if he was imprisoned, there was still a good possibility of him doing such. However, if he told her what she wanted, there was no telling if he'd end up a lifeless sack of flesh and bones on the Kuchiki manor floor.

He made his decision. "Do what you're going to do. I ain't tellin' you shit."

That wild and almost feral grin mellowed into an equally as perilous smirk as a soft chuckle filled the tense silence between the two. "Of course you won't. I am glad, that makes this much, much more entertaining."

Almost missing it, Ikkaku saw her fingers pat her hilt in the same way a person would caress a pet. Not missing a beat, he grabbed for his own sword, but merely milliseconds too late.

"Dakō ninfu, charm." Before his reflexes could ignite, with merely the blink of an eye, her sword turned into a staff that took the shape of a jet black snake, eyes a stabbing yellow, tail coiling at the end. More troubling, her pupils became tiny slits of pure blackness, breaking her now vibrant gold orbs, and pulling him in. Much like a ripple in time, they sucked everything into the void of their trance-inducing twilight. Ikkaku started to go numb, the entirety of his consciousness feeling as if it was being suctioned from his very limbs. Thoughts, awareness, all functions, they dulled to the point of nonexistence, till the point he could merely stand in complete dumbstruck paralysis. All memory of why he was there or where there was exactly fled him, leaving him dangling in between matter. He knew he was standing. He could even see and hear, but nothing computed and looked mostly like splotches of watercolor all running together. It all made about as much sense as it would to a newborn infant. Limbs inert and mind vulnerable, he existed only beside himself.

Gripping her staff in the firm yet graceful way one held a child, she ran her nails across the head of the serpent. Shaking her head in a show of comical disappointment, she said, "If you knew anything about snakes, you'd know they hunt with their sense of smell." Tapping her nose a couple of times, she shrugged her shoulders. "Though, I suppose you don't know much of anything right now." Confused eyes met hers, as if asking her to explain what world he had entered into, but she knew her words would never meet his train of thought unless she wanted them to, for her charm acted as a filter for all perceptions. "Earlier, I wasn't trying to sense your fear per se. No. I was trying to sense the strength of your willpower."

Surely a show of her insanity, she continued to speak to the man who could not understand her, deriving pleasure from the weakness of his current dissipation. "While with many drugs, your tolerance goes up the more you come in contact with it, mine does quite the opposite. The first time I charm someone, it's a rather weak trance depending on the resolution of my prey. You, dear, have such a strength of will that my powers will probably only last for another," she tilted her head side to side, as if calculating, "I'd say ten minutes. For many, I could simply manipulate their memories. " She ran a flat palm over the man's shining scalp in an almost affectionate manner, fluttering her fingers like moth wings. "Though the memories may not stick depending on the said person's constitution, and you are quite the strong man." Licking her lips predatorily, she continued, "You're probably fighting it right now and you don't even know it." Naomi ran her thumb pass the slightly parted coarse lips of Ikkaku. "How inciting. The more powerful they are, the funnier it is when they fall. Luckily for me, I have ways of making this trance last much longer and becoming much deeper. You see, Ikkaku, a cobra doesn't simply bite its prey, it then constricts it."

Stepping back, the ripples of black stretched across the spherical expanse of potent yellow, grasping him within their depths. "Dakō ninfu, shed." In that brief moment, Ikkaku caught a glimmer of realization within his cycle of discombobulation. His whereabouts were still unknown, a blank space filling the crevices of his mind, but the fog of obscurity dwindled only marginally. All he could take in was the blurred outline of a familiar face. It was like looking at a person through a window during a rain storm. That wry twist of the lips, those heavy eyelids sitting low over the most enchanting orbs, purple like lilacs, that pointed chin and trenchant jaw, he knew exactly who they belonged to. He just didn't remember how he knew. Oh, and when his voice finally rang out, that voice so mesmerizing and always on the edge of biting, sounding as sweet and heavy as syrup, it filled him with familiarity.

Like a scared confused child grappling for their mother, he grabbed the man's hips and pulled him closer, trying to anchor himself to the only reality he had ever known. The tangibility of it all was comforting him while also exciting him. Finally, a name fell from his lips, though he was unsure of where it came from. It wasn't a memory, he just knew, like how an amnesia patient knows how to ride a bike, but nothing of the moments they'd learned, he knew he loved this man eminently.

"Yumichika?" he managed the words, finding the sound of his own voice strange and out of place. Though the bright smile and embracing arms he received put to bed any troublesome thoughts and the scent that exuded from this man and lingered in his nostrils, though he never remembered smelling it before nor meeting this man, it was a smell he knew well. It was one he knew belonged to this stranger and that he'd indulged in many times before.

"Ikkaku," the sweet voice rasped in his ear. Ikkaku was his name, he believed. That sounded right. It sounded as if it belonged to him. Soft finger pads pressed one at time down his bare head, each lulling him into a safety he'd never believed possible, each touch so alleviating. That palliative voice spoke once more, this time with eyes looking directly into his. Those whirlpools of comfort held his whole world, the only truth he'd ever known. "Dear, I need you to remember something for me." He smoothly glided his hand in comfort. "Can you tell me exactly what the elders said?"

His eyes scrunched in confusion down at his new protector, frustrated in disappointing him, frustrated in not understand, not remembering. "I-" He shook his back and forth, "... I don't…"

Thumbs pressed into his throbbing temples, the man kneading them softly. "Yes you do. It's in there, you just have to try. Please, for me."

And try he did, because this man was his whole world. They both spun on an axis of just their own, nothing else coming in or out of this vacuum. Just like that, a single memory flickered into his mind from what appeared to be the ceaseless cavity that was his existence, a memory he was _allowed_ to remember, a sense he was _allowed_ to perceive. Again he spoke, telling the man about the conversation he'd heard. Why would he not? This man was the earth and the cosmos to him, his savior in this tempest of white noise.

"Very interesting," the man said. Deep-seated eyes glared into his, sultry and inviting. "Will you please lay with me, Ikkaku? I am very drained, but I still would like to help you remember."

He knew he was right to trust this man. He was going to make everything clear again. He would put an end to the static. Simply nodding, he interlaced their fingers and let himself be led away.

It took no more than the blinding sun to wash over him for Ikkaku to understand something was very wrong. As soon as awareness found him, he sprung up in a state of alertness, sitting straight up in a bed he recognized to not be his own. This bed was much bigger than his own and leaps above it in comfort. His fist clutched into the silky sheets, a forgetful frustration running through him. He shut his eyelids hard, trying to sort through his disarrayed memories until he pieced them into a comprehendible explanation of the events that took place the night prior. What he remembered made every inch of his skin crawl, made his stomach twist and turn with refutal. His whole body rejected the impossible memories. The cloth that sat against him was cool, making him realize that he was completely bare. Beside him, situated on a night stand of sorts, was his cloak and shihakusho.

This sight made the memories all the more real and the knots in his stomach all that tighter. Still there was no part of him that could believe what he was recalling, even as the images burnt themselves into his skull. Quickly, he dressed before he was off, leaving the Kuchiki manner in search for the truth, a truth he'd be willing to accept.

 **xXx**

Yumichika stood among the resistance group that had grown into some of his closest comrades. He wore a sad smile, tuning out most of the murmurs that filled the snow white shadow domain. His thoughts were elsewhere, riddled by a subtle anxiety that grew more and more with each day of silence between himself and Ikkaku.

After the last meeting, where Ikkaku decided to extract information, a week had passed, and Ikkaku had been blatantly avoiding him, even going as far to cancel the lunch they were supposed to share the day after via hell butterfly. At least he'd sent something at all. If it had been anyone else, Yumichika was sure he just wouldn't have shown up. However, the all too often pigheaded man knew better. If he withheld all contact, Yumichika would take it upon himself to barge into the eleventh division, not caring what kind of repellent glares his old squad threw his way. Knowing each other for as long as they had, Yumichika realized that if Ikkaku wasn't speaking to him, he needed his space. Ikkaku also realized that Yumichika would not only recognizing this, but respect it, as long as he could confirm the man's safety.

Still, this waiting game was beginning to push the limits of Yumichika's ever so graceful patience, which said a lot, because the man always prided himself in such virtues. However, the men were lovers, and though he respected Ikkaku's need for space, did Ikkaku not respect the anxiety such separation would bring him? It wasn't that they hadn't seen each other for a week, that had happened a few times after Yumichika was all but forced to transfer squads. It was the not knowing, knowing nothing other than the fact that Ikkaku was avoiding him. After all these years, did he not deserve some explanation to this hiatus in their usual dynamic?

Either way, Ikkaku was supposed to show up to the meeting and explain what had happened during his reconnaissance mission. Not showing up would be the last straw for the man, for although he was as composed as he was beautiful, even his long-suffering had a ceiling.

It was for that reason that Yumichika stood, moments before the meeting was to begin officially, with one hand anchored to his opposing forearm, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against his unusually ashen skin, only highlighting his introspection. Days of worrying had curbed his eating and sleeping abilities profusely, leaving him feeling rather ill.

Uryu and Orihime had been chatting the man up, and while he tried to be active in the conversation, it was painfully obvious that his thoughts were elsewhere. After they walked away to talk to some other members, a nerve-irking voice sounded off behind the man.

"How is Madarame-san doing?" asked Salim.

"Why would you care?" Yumichika huffed in annoyance.

"I simply wanted to see if he made good use of my poison, that's all."

Showing every ounce of his confusion on his face, Yumichika repeated, "Poison?"

Jessie, who had walked up with Ulter at his side, added, "I know she has a weird way of showing it, but she does care."

Simpering slightly and negating her eyes in a show of regret, Salim said, "Yeah, I kind of feel bad that I didn't tell him about the fifteen minute time limit…now that I think about it."

Before Yumichika could respond, Ikkaku appeared. As he pushed past the group, he practically growled. "She didn't even take it, so don't concern yourself."

Yumichika followed the trajectory of his movements, feeling equally as steamed as he was confused. Running up beside the man, Jessie, Salim, and Ulter shared a look before wordlessly deciding to follow.

"Ikkaku." Yumichika held a tight grip on the man's forearm, ceasing his movements. "What is everyone talking about? What's going on?"

Immediately he noticed that Ikkaku could barely look him in the eyes, and when their looks did lock, his glare was mixed with such anger and deep-seated opprobrium. Such a look of shame was atypical for the man and it just looked amiss, causing Yumichika to loosen his grip slightly. It took no time for his lover to brush him off in an irritated fashion. "We'll talk later," was all he said before walking off, yet that didn't keep Yumichika from following him.

His advance came to a halt right in front of Juushiro and Ryunosuke, who were talking to Toshiro and a select few other members. "What are Naomi Kuchiki's powers?" the man demanded to know, not prefacing his question one bit.

The gritty voice and abrupt question caught everyone's attention, making Juushiro and Ryunosuke turn to notice the man for the first time. "Well hello to you too, Madarame- san," Rynosuke grinned.

Juushiro shared a troubled look between his companion and Ikkaku. "Powers?"

"Yeah," the man said, obviously having little patience. "Her shikai and bankai, what do they do?"

Ryunosuke and Juushiro shared a thoughtful look. "I'm not sure about her bankai," Ryunosuke said.

"Does she even have one?"

"Well she must, she is a captain," Toshiro added.

"Yes, but the sixth division captain seat belongs solely to the Kuchikis, so to some extent, it doesn't really matter."

"Still, I doubt they'd let her be a captain without one," reasoned Toshiro.

"You're right, but I don't think anyone's actually ever seen it. Whereas most captains have the take a test, Central appointed her directly with no assessments of her powers," explained Ryunosuke. "Of course, there was no doubting her strength."

Ikkaku was equally irritated as he was addled about how easily the conversation had gotten away from him. "Whatever. Her shikai then, what does it do?"

"Did something happen, Madarame-san?" Juushiro asked, looking quite uneasy.

"Yeah, why didn't you use my poison?" Salim interrupted, "My spirt is real sassy, so that stuff isn't easy to get her to hand over, ya' know?"

Now even more confused, Juushiro asked, "Poison? You didn't mention anything about this to us."

"Or me," Yumichika scoffed more to himself than anyone else.

Knots formed in the usually unfazed man's chest. He'd known he would have to come clean about the ambiguous events that had happened that night, but he had hoped it wouldn't have to be in front of one third of the resistance group. Toshiro, Shinji, Hisagi, Uryu, Orihime, Aiko's ex love-dolls, Urahara, Yoruichi, Renji, and worst of all, Yumichika, were surrounding him. Their urgency and confusion was practically tangible, making the man feel extra anxious, as if their earnest curiosity was stifling his breaths. Still he had little choice but to fess up, and it may have been partially his fault for drawing such attention to himself with his usual hotheaded movements. Though, he had nothing to be ashamed of, right? The reality that he remembered, there was no way it could be true. She did something to him, she must've, because the moments from that night that kept playing over and over in his head just didn't fit the person he knew himself to be. However, there was still no easy way to say it aloud.

"I did use it," he cleared his throat. "She just outsmarted me, never even took it."

Toshiro scoffed and said something like 'surprise-surprise,' to which Juushiro put up a silencing hand. "Tell us exactly what happened."

"I was able to convince her to take me back to the manor with her," he spat uneasily, rubbing his neck in a show of discomfort. "I wanted to sneak in and see if I could find any information in the elders' quarters." Everyone's eyes gaped at that, except for Jessie's gang, who had been aware of his plans from the get-go. After Juushiro made a considering noise, Ikkaku continued. "I mixed some sleeping poison in her drink and she acted like she took it, but she didn't. She was just playin' me, ended up catching me in the elders' wing herself."

Ryunosuke rose a dubious eyebrow at the explanation. "But you haven't been arrested and you're also not dead, so what exactly happened to make her let you go?"

Yumichika could feel the tension in Ikkaku's pressure. He'd never seen the man this visibly uncomfortable in all their years of knowing each other. The feeling put him on edge, knowing something could yield such a reaction from the usually blunt and unapologetic Ikkaku.

"That's the thing. What I remember happening, I know there's no way it happened like that. I can see it clear as day, but it's just not right. Also…" his eyes flickered to Yumichika only marginally before he continued, "I remember seeing someone there who shouldn't have been there. It was just a glimpse, but it's like a memory that doesn't belong, that makes no sense. I thought maybe her powers let her fuck with someone's head or somethin'."

Ryunosuke and Juushiro exchanged knowing looks before the nobleman cocked an eyebrow, almost seeming amused. "My, my, Madarame-san, did she shed for you?" His voice was sly and cocky, only boiling Ikkaku's skin more. "Of course, only after she charmed you, yes?"

Everyone's breath seemed to hitch at the implications and the staunch edge Ikkaku's pressure took on. "What the hell does that mean? Just tell me what her powers are."

The noble's grin mellowed slightly, but never completely vacated his face. "Many soul reapers don't know her powers unless they were around when she used to be an active soul reaper under Kuchiki-san. She was the fourth seat of the sixth division well before you were around, well before Kuchiki-san married Hisana-san. Certain things unfolded to where Kuchiki-san had her locked away, influenced by the elders' insistence, of course."

Uryu pushed up his glasses pensively while he hummed in contemplation. "Why would he have had her locked away?"

The nobleman sighed deeply and squared his shoulders. "That, I'd rather not divulge, if only for the sake of Kuchiki Byakuya's reputation. Not that I disagree with his decision, but by some it could be considered rather cruel."

Yoruichi, who was fully aware of the Noami Kuchiki situation, spoke up. "He was a different person after Hisana-san died. He would have done anything his clan asked of him."

"Yes, but nevertheless, her powers went well beyond that of a fourth seat. You see, her zanpakutou's name is Dakō ninfu, and it takes on the form of a serpent-shaped staff. Much like Shinji-san, or more accurately, Aizen, her power is the ability to change one's perception of reality to fit her whims, along with manipulating the victim's memory. So it's very possible that what you remember isn't exactly how things played out."

Ikkaku glance at the ground in consideration, feeling something akin to relief, yet also feeling violated at the same time.

Ryunosuke continued with his explanation. "Her power is particularly cruel though, more so than Aizen's, at least in my humble opinion. You see, charm works by putting the receiver in a sort of trance state. They begin to understand their surroundings as much as a newborn does, and have little, if any, memory at all. They can, on some level, see and hear what's going on around them, but their perception is so skewed that everything becomes almost unreal. Through this power, all she has to do to insert memories into the receiver is speak them. Vice versa also, she can draw memories out by simply asking about them. It's almost like a hypnosis of sort."

The nobleman pursed his lips in a manner that looked oddly serious for the usually blissful man. "However, her powers work in such a way that they're stronger the more a person is effected by them. Much like the way a person becomes more poisoned each time a snake bites them. Because of your high spiritual pressure, it's unlikely that any of the implanted memories would have stuck with just that power alone. This is where the cruelty comes in. Like many, her shikai has stages. Hers has four in all, but the first two work best in tandem. While charm reduces her victims to the mindset of a freshly-born infant, shed is able to change the way you perceive her. Unlike Jessie-san, she does not shape shift, but makes it so you perceive her as the person of her choice, usually a person you care for deeply. It's actually much more effective because it not only mimics the way that the person looks, but how the receiver perceives the person she chooses to take shape as. It mimics their smell, looks, voice, even the feelings you have for said person. Through charm, she accesses the victim's memories on how exactly that person is perceived. With the receiver in such a state of dependency and confusion, they latch onto her the way a confused child would latch onto their mother, seeing her as someone they genuinely care for and trust. Not only does this enhance the success rate of her implanted memories sticking, but it also deepens and elongates the trance while yielding the receiver's complete loyalty. So if you remember seeing someone that doesn't fit into the rest of your memories, it's very possible that she used this method on you."

A thunderstorm of conflicting emotions coalesced inside of the man. On one hand, he was rather pleased to know that his memories from that night could very much be fake, implanted by Naomi. However, he felt contaminated in ways he couldn't explain. His pride felt like a raw scab, being poked and prodded, knowing that the woman had used his lover as a means to invade his mind and will. This had been the second time Yumichika had been used against him in such a manner, and that made him nauseated. Perhaps love really was a weakness.

Juushiro, always the calm among the chaos, smiled gently. "What exactly do you remember happening? Maybe if you tell us, we can hope to make some sense of what really happened that night."

Ikkaku nodded and crossed his arms across his brawny chest. "I spiked her drink. I thought she took it, but she was on to me the whole time. Just playin' dead, I guess. I went to the elders' wing and that's when I overheard these two guys talkin'. It sounded like they were arguing about Naomi. They kept on talkin' about a prophesy, makin' it sound like the reason they were doing all of this in the first place. I don't know exactly what it's all about, but apparently it says that something bad is going to happen to whoever the head of the Kuchiki household is."

"And that would be Kuchiki Naomi," the nobleman reasoned.

"Yeah. They sounded like they wanted to stop it from happening, but at the same time, the older one, he seemed happy about the idea that it would get rid of Naomi if it did end up happening that way."

"But she's the only full-blooded Kuchiki left, so why would they be so eager of her disposal?" Shinji spoke up.

"That's the most fucked up part. The old guy was sayin' somethin' about how he planned on forcing Kuchiki-san back into his position by threatening his family."

"Is that some kind of sick joke?" Renji asked, irritation obvious in his tone.

"The head elder isn't known for his sense of humor," the nobleman scoffed.

"Perhaps not a joke, but certainly sickening," Uryu scowled, placing a comforting arm around Orihime who looked rather concerned by the information.

"Their daughter's a human and just a child," Jessie growled. "Does he have no morals?"

"That part, I think is true, but it's what happened after that that doesn't make sense to me," Ikkaku huffed, shifting awkwardly in his spot. "She caught me before I could leave. Told me that she only let me go through with my plans because she knew the elders were hiding something from her and she thought she could use me to find that out. She told me that the only way she'd let me go was if I gave her the information and kept on digging on her behalf, and…" Ikkaku averted his eyes downwards, the words feeling like regurgitated shards of glass. "And if I acted as her lover."

Though fugacious, the dead silence that took over the group was unnerving. It seemed to be piercing to everyone, yet no one wanted to break the silence. Ikkaku finally did. "I'd have let her kill me before I would agree to something like that."

"But the way you remember it, you did agree. Do you actually recall sleeping with Kuchiki Naomi?" the nobleman asked.

Ikkaku gave an extremely awkwardly painful nod of the head. "But I guess it didn't really happen."

"Of course not," Yumichika spoke up for the first time. "Anyone who knows you knows you would never do something like that. You're much too prideful."

Tilting his head side to side, the nobleman hummed to the contrary. "Well, actually, there's no saying that for sure." At the sharp looks given to him, he explained, "Kuchiki Naomi has a reputation for being absolutely hedonic. She takes no issue in indulging in the _finer_ pleasures of life and doesn't care who knows about it. More so, one could say she's quite sadistic with her kinks. To her, being able to bed someone as strong as you without your consent, all because she is more powerful, would be the ultimate form of humiliation. Perhaps her biggest turn on. If she could, she'd keep the powerful as pets. Other than that, what makes me believe that this might be a real memory is the fact that it's an unnecessary one. Asking you to act as her lover wasn't at all needed, not if her aim was solely to gain information. Letting you believe that she let you go because you swore to keep digging on her behalf would have been plenty. What is more likely is she used her powers to confuse you and manipulate you into bed, making you believe you were sleeping with the person you perceived her to be. You may be asking you self, why would she do this, but a person like Kuchiki Naomi needs no reason to be cruel. To her, it's simply fun."

There it was again, a looming silence that seemed to stretch on forever. One no one wanted to breach. Glances were all given to Ikkaku, pitying yet strained in their manner. For Ikkaku, he stood almost dumbfounded, filled with a clinging hatred churning in his core that was only fueled by the humiliation that came from knowing he had been been overpowered, manipulated, violated, taken in ways he only allowed with one other. He felt disgusted and disgusting, shame towards himself and animosity towards her. More so, everyone knew. Everyone could fell his raging emotions flooding the room with a perilous rigidity, making everyone naturally recoil a couple of steps.

Juushiro threw the nobleman a look that screamed how inappropriate that was, telling him he should have waited to divulge something so personal in private. Ryunosuke merely shrugged his shoulders, too out of touch to see the flaws in his actions.

The crescent-haired captain could feel the perplexity in Ikkaku's pressure and knew the only thing repressing an emotional outburst was his inability to grasp onto the more dominant of sensations. Was it anger? Was it humiliation? Or was it loyalty to his comrades, knowing he was needed and couldn't merely storm off in a fit of hasty outrage? This mission was more important than his own gut reaction. As much as he wanted to leave and cut Naomi down with his own hands, as much as he wanted to be anywhere else but there, it would only show just how far she had gotten to him and would, in the end, help nothing. Perhaps if he acted as if it wasn't such an ordeal, he could salvage some of his wounded pride. He refused to let this woman make him feel like a victim of something. Victim. Just the word made his skin crawl with self-reproach and acrimony. No. This was like any other lost battle. He'd been too weak and could only hope to grow stronger so such a thing didn't happen again.

"She said something about a library housed in the elders' wing," Ikkaku finally broke the silence, making everyone release the unanimous breath that had been caught up in their chest. "It's got a lot of old documents and stuff going way back, maybe a written form of this prophecy. Apparently it's protected by a really strong Kido. Anyway, she said Central would be meeting up in two weeks, and it'd be the best time to infiltrate it."

"No way, Ikkaku," bellowed Renji. "You're not even thinking about helping this lunatic."

"I didn't ask for your fuckin' permission, Renji!" he bellowed in suit. "It ain't for her, anyway. It's for us."

"You've absolutely lost it if you think we're going to just let you waltz in there alone," Yumichika chided. "Now that we know of the library and when the elders will be out, we don't need her assistance. An infiltration team can be sent in."

"You can't enter the estate without the spiritual pressure of someone who lives or works in the mansion. She's my only way in. Plus, I don't know shit about kido, she knows that. I'm going to have to have someone with me to break the spell, a kido master. So I'm not alone," Ikkaku reasoned, rather mildly for his usual self.

"Also," Juushiro added, "It's not as if she will just accept such a betrayal. If we don't give her what she wants, she'll simply turn Madarame-san into Central or infect him with her zanpakutou again."

"She cannot be trusted," asserted Yumichika.

"He's right," Hisagi agreed. "We know nothing of this woman's motives or what the prophesy will say. Without that, who's to say what she'll do after she gets the information. What if she convinces Madarame-san into giving the names of our inner circle? What then? Like you said, she doesn't need a reason to be cruel. What's to stop her from unraveling us after she gets what she wants?"

"What if she keeps pulling that sick kido on ya' and plays with your head some more, huh?" Renji asked, full of disapproval.

"Enough, I can handle it myself. She ain't pulling shit on me anymore, I'll make sure of it. Besides," his fist tightened at his words, "she's already had her fun."

"Pride is not a superpower," Uryu offered wisely. "It won't keep you from her powers."

"Listen! If I say I got it, then I got it. I'm not fucking dumb and I got my own ways." Seeing his affronted determination, Renji backed down and Yumichika recoiled slightly.

"If things go sideways, we could always just kill her," Salim offered offhandedly. At the harsh glares thrown her way, she defended, "Oh, come on! The chick's a sicko, and that's coming from me. It's not like she doesn't deserve it."

"I'd be completely comfortable with that," Yumichika said, an edge of bitterness slathering his words.

"I could off her real quick and leave no trace," Yoruichi added so flippantly that it wasn't so clear if she was joking or not. Urahara just smiled in approval.

"There will be no killing," Juushiro ordered, eyes gaped at the group. Leaning closer to the nobleman, he expressed, "Dear Soul King, I can't even believe I have to say that."

The nobleman grinned impishly in response. "Well it's not as if almost everyone in this room hasn't killed someone before. Of course, the idea doesn't make them all that uncomfortable."

"You can't be seriously encouraging this?"

"If there's no other means to our survival, certain actions have to be done." The man shrugged his shoulders. "Surviving the Quincy war, you must know that."

"We are standing on the precipice of a shift in government. We cannot begin by solving all of our problems with killing, even if the person deserves it." Juushiro sighed deeply and concluded, "We don't have many choices here, so it looks as if Ikkaku will be going in two weeks time with another member of our inner circle, the utmost authority on breaking Kido spells."

"Oh, you flatter me, Juushiro-san," Urahara fawned.

"Actually, I was speaking of the former lieutenant of the Kido Corps, Ushōda Hachigen- san." Juushiro smiled and nodded towards the man, who had made his way over to the growing group some time ago. By now, every member of the resistance was circled around, listening to what was going on.

The gentle giant of a man stepped forward and nodded respectfully. "It would be my honor, Captain Ukitake-san."

Looking up to the nobleman deliberately, Ikkaku asked, "So about her powers, does it have any weaknesses or anything else I should know about?"

"The two other stages of her shikai are more so made for combat. Though I suppose they could be used as a form of torture off the battlefield, I don't believe you'll have to worry about that. It's also to be noted that when she is in her shikai, she is able to trance you by just having you look into her or her staff's eyes. If you could consider that a weakness, that would probably be it. Her first two stages don't work if you're not looking her in the eye, though it would be an even bigger handicap to have one's eyes shut. I don't know all too much about her sword, in all honesty. However, I do know that her sword's powers give her not only more biological attributes of a snake, but also the mythical attributes. While she has a great sense of smell, it's rumored that she might also have weak eyesight in that regard, like a snake. Many have rumored her to be the reincarnation of Kiyohime herself, a serpent in folk lore who shed into a woman and charmed a priest into affections, only to kill him when he later rejected her. Overall, her powers lend themselves to being very sneaky and precise, much like a snake, though much of what I know are rumors. Someone like Kuchiki-san would be more likely to know some helpful details, what's rumor and what's not."

"It's about time I give Byakuya-boy a call anyway," Urahara said.

Without another word, Ikkaku turned and walked through the crowd, which parted for him smoothly. He took no time in leaving.

When he returned to his barracks, he grunted at the realization that Yumichika was sitting on his bed, waiting for him. He hadn't even noticed that he'd followed him out, but the man must have been moving rather quickly to beat him back.

"If you're here to tell me not to go through with the mission, you can save it." Ikkaku put away his cloak, turning away from the man.

Legs crossed and hands rested on knees, Yumichika sat with poise, his temperament rather calm. He was neither aggressive nor bashful about his words. "I understand that there's no changing your mind. I even understand why you felt the need to be alone for the last week. You felt guilty." He saw Ikkaku's shoulders tense at his words, but still, he continued. "You felt ashamed of your actions, and knowing you, you probably still do."

Ikkaku turned, knuckles white and scowl deep. "I slept with someone else, of course I feel fucking guilty."

"No. You feel weak and ashamed of it. This wasn't something you did of your own volition and you know there's no reason to feel something as baseless as guilt. You know I hold nothing against you."

Ikkaku open and closed his hand a few times, suppressing the urge to punch something. "Yeah, and how do you know? I remember it happenin', so how do I know I didn't really do it?"

The usually beautiful face creased at every cranny, displaying his disbelief at Ikkaku's statement. "You would actually rather believe you could do something like that, rather than admit that she violated you. Oh Ikkaku…"

Despite their calm delivery, those words were enough to send his fist swinging at the nearest wall. At the violent fit of rage finally rearing its head, Yumichika did not waver in his confidence. He did not recoil, for such anger from Ikkaku wasn't new territory for him. "That's exactly why I wanted you to leave me alone, because I knew you'd look at me like that. So damn pitifully, like I'm a victim."

The accusations prompted the man to stand to attention, but he didn't move forward. Insult was apparent on his face. "How dare you make such claims about me. I know you better than anyone, and I could never see you or treat you that way." He moved a little closer, heat frothing from his chest. "You're not a victim, but you're also not at fault. It's certainly not because she's stronger than you or that you deserved it for being weaker."

"It's like any other battle, Yumichika." Ikkaku stood, gritting, feeling the stinging of his bloodied fist and the adrenaline coursing through him. "I did do you wrong by being weaker."

The lithe man crossed his arms and shook his head in disapproval. "You're speaking nonsense. What makes a soul reaper strong isn't the power they wield, but how they wield it. Honorably. That wasn't battle. That was nothing more than her own sick whims. Anyone, no matter what power level, could have been affected. What she did was dirty and underhanded, and nothing about that makes her stronger than you." Now invading the man's space even more, his voice quaked slightly, tears threatening to penetrate his eyes. "Anyone who feels the need to defile someone to boost their own ego is weak." His voice cracked as he stood in front of his lover, laying his head on his chest. "She is the weak one, Ikkaku, not you."

Ikkaku's own breaths were shuttered, deep and jagged against Yumichika's damp cheek. Tremors shook his whole body, like a dam holding back an ocean of hostility. Yumichika interlaced his hand with one of Ikkaku's quivering ones, hoping to offer some peace of mind. He couldn't decide if he was shocked or expectant when Ikkaku pushed him away. "I don't see it that way. She used her powers and she beat me. She used _you_ ," he spat, his voice smothered with resentfulness.

"Yes," Yumichika nodded and simpered, "I figured as much. Are you angry with me?"

"I'm angry with myself," he yelled without hesitation. "Maybe I was wrong. I used to think you made me stronger, but now-" At his lover's eyes wide and brimming with tears, he caught himself. "I just- I- just… Go. Just go before I say something neither of us are going to like."

Yumichika's face sat somewhere between disappointed and dejected as he walked towards the door. He stopped before he left, saying his last piece. "I truly did understand that you needed your space. I understand that now, also, because I respect and trust you, but I'm starting to wonder if you can say the same for me. Did you even consider how worried I've been about you, did you even think of how your actions may have made me feel? You don't trust me to let me be there for you, but instead, you push me away like everyone else." Looking up at the man with all of the dysphoric curiosity painful pungent in his dewy purple eyes, he asked, "Why am I only your partner when everything is going okay?"

At the astringent silence, so deliberate in its severity, Yumichika resigned his hand to the door knob. "Right, I didn't actually believe you would ever tell me. That would take trust."

 **xXx**


End file.
